


Red

by spangelbanger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, Demon Blood Addiction, Demon Dean, Everybody Dies, F/M, Killer!Dean, M/M, Other, but the world doesn't end, killer!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 41,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spangelbanger/pseuds/spangelbanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started as pretty much porn then ended up being something else. The basic idea is that Sam rescued Dean from hell with Ruby's help and ended up a lot stronger than he ever was shown in canon. Unfortunately he was just a little too late, Dean ended up becoming mostly demonic, but there's still quite a bit of good in Dean despite the black eyes and the occasional desire to torture someone into non-existance. For the most part the fuel dean's need to destroy with Sam's blood thirst through demons occasionally a human gets in the way though so there's a string of bodies being left behind, both human and demon. While Dean is spiraling through panic attacks and renewal of more human emotions from being around sam, it's causing him to lose his demonic side from being unexposed to the tortures of hell for so long. While Sam's just getting stronger, drawing Demon's to him that still think he's going to take over hell from the power gap left behind after he decimated most of it in his rescue of Dean. <br/>In the background unbeknownst to them the apocalypse is still brewing. Sam's still out for Lilith's head, and Dean is along for the ride. <br/>a lot of smut in this, but the last few chapters are almost pure plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

It was too fucking hot. Like burn your fucking arm if you touch the black metal, peel your ass off the leather seat, sweat soaked through everything _HOT_. The windows were down, but it wasn't helping much. Even the wind that rushed through the car was suffocating to breath. The smell of dusty fields and hot cedar trees filled the car. It would have been nice, but it even smelled hot. 

Dean had his foot to the floor, thoughtless to the possibility some back woods cops would pull them over. If they did, a flash of badge and a mention of emergency call and they'd back off. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened.

Still Dean felt anxiety clawing in his stomach, tangling it up in knots. Part of it was the girl passed out in the back seat. A larger part of it was Sam. He was practically vibrating in the passenger seat his leg bouncing out a rhythm way the hell too fast for the song that was on the radio. His thumb nail was in his mouth his teeth worrying at it to the point Dean was pretty damn sure he was going to lose it.

The sweat that poured off his brother only half was cause of the heat. That was what actually had Dean worried, though he wouldn't admit it. “Dude, stop fucking biting yourself.” He finally said and turned his attention back to the highway.

He didn't have to hear the mumbled “sorry” to know Sam had said it, the words practically shouted through him, and Dean had to fight not to flinch from it.

“Dude, volume” he muttered and looked over the seat checking their guest. It was probably worse that she was blond. It was _always_ worse when they were blond. She was pretty, exactly Sam's type, and wasn't that just lucky for her? Dean didn't think about it too much. It just meant she'd be alive a little longer. It meant Dean's next couple days would be a little rougher, and Sam would need him focused to get them both through it in one piece. 

That was another problem, Dean had to fight to keep his eyes on the road and off his brother. The come-fuck-me vibe was making the car almost as unbearable as the heat. Though Dean doubted his brother even knew he did it. It was probably the weirdest turn the entire situation had taken. Sam was suddenly, irresistibly fucking hot, and that was not suppose to be something Dean notice. Especially now, with the sweat pouring off him, his too long hair wind tangled and his lip a bitten deep pink that promised if he didn't get his teeth out of his soon it would be bleeding.

“Will you relax?” Dean said, so quiet it was a whisper caught up on that insufferable hot wind.

“Can't.” Sam said, his breath coming out a hard pant.

Dean's eyes were drawn back to him from the highway, the way he was fighting to stay still, but Dean could see how badly he was needing the release, how badly he was needing the fix, but the girl had to wait, they needed more from her than just to sate Sammy's needs however intense they were at the minute.

“Come here,” Dean said before grabbing Sam's arm and urging him close.

Sam said his name, in a desperate sound, but he move close enough his trembling leg was pressed against Dean's own, and it should have made the heat worse, Dean could feel the sweat and warmth from his brother even through their clothes. Sam was baking with his own internal fire. Dean kept his left hand on the wheel and pressed his right palm hard between his brother's spread thighs, felt the way Sam's breath caught and his hips rolled up to meet his hand.

“I got you Sammy,” Dean said softly, letting him thrust up into the touch. Sam's back arched off the seat and his hands gripped it hard enough the leather groaned.

“You need more?” Dean asked not looking at him, the groan answered and Dean worked Sam's jeans open and down with a precision of a lifetime of practice. Just enough to fit Dean's hand into them and wrap around the hard length of him.

Dean kept his eyes on the highway, driving on autopilot with one hand, dealing with Sam on autopilot with the other. It was still weird, but it felt normal. Like it was just another part of taking care of Sammy, and Dean had never balked at what that took.

It didn't take long before Dean felt the wet cum surging over his fingers it felt cool in comparison to everything else.

Sam sat beside him breathing hard. His eyes squeezed closed and Dean finally dared to look at him, “you okay for a little while?” He asked giving one last squeeze to his brother's softening cock before pulling his hand out.

“Yeah,” Sam said breathlessly. He grabbed Dean's wrist before he could move it lightening quick reflexes that caught Dean by surprise. Dean let Sam drag his hand up to his mouth, tried to ignore the soft press of his tongue dragging over his palm. The soft suction on each of his fingers in turn that had Dean's dick throbbing sympathetically. It was really fucked up that he wanted to feel what that mouth could do on something more sensitive than fingers, but he let himself entertain the thought until Sam let him go.

“Dude, I'm covered in your spit,” Dean complained wiping his hand on Sam's shirt, like he had planned to do in the first place.

“Sorry,” Sam said running his hand through his hair dragging the tangles out. He slid back into his place leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes.

“Hey, before you pass out, reach back there and grab me a beer?” Dean said reaching for the dial to turn the radio up. He took advantage of Sam half sprawled over the back of the seat to swat his ass. Sam flinched.

“What the hell?”

Dean shrugged, taking the beer from him and popping the top on it with his free hand. Bringing it to his lips he was momentarily distracted by the smell of his hand, his nose crinkled and he shot a disgusted look at Sam before downing half the can in one drink.

“We're about two hours out, think you can make it that long?” Dean saw his brother look over the back seat, saw his eyes drag over the girls unconscious form.

He nodded, “Yeah,” but the word was shaky, it was going to be hell before they made it there. Sam closed his eyes, and Dean hoped he would sleep for most of it. They hardly ever got that lucky.

Dean let his eyes roam over his brother, noting the changes, the way he filled the space more than he ever had before. It had always been hard to tell where Sam stopped and he started with them living their lives intertwined around each other. It was even harder now that Dean could constantly feel Sam's presence next to him.

Dean hated their lives, hated what it was doing to Sam, what it was doing to them, but he couldn't help but notice underneath everything else, Sam looked better than he ever had before. He was alive in ways he had never been before and no matter what it took, Dean was going to keep him safe.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean got a room, checked them in, then went to their actual destination, it was an abandoned farm, a place they'd stayed in while they were younger, though at the time it had been a vacation rent house, that was cheap and the owner was friendly. Too bad about how that had turned out for him. Dean tried not to think about the people they failed to save, tried not to think about the fact they were breaking their rule of not going back to the Same towns they'd already been to.

It wasn't like anyone would recognize them. They'd been kids the first time through. Now though, now it was a good place to lay low for a couple days. Dean carried the girl while Sam unlocked the door. He watched the slight tremble in his brother's hands an thought of offering to trade, but Sam didn't need to get his hands on her, not yet at least. Once she was where Dean wanted her, then Sam could tear into her all he felt like, until then, Sam's urge to rip her apart was an unneeded complication

Dean could see the way his brother was breathing hard, the way his eyes kept drifting to them, in the few seconds it took him to get the door unlocked and shoved in. Dean moved past him. Unsure what they'd find inside.

The house had a basement, which was really the most important part. The door was open, the stairs midnight black despite the light spilling in from the open door. He felt his way down carefully, felt a spiderweb brush against his face, and shuddered at the wispy touch.

The basement was mostly empty, a dust covered washing machine stood with the door open and evidence of some rodents nest was scattered around it.

Sam held a coil of rope in one hand, a flashlight in the other, the light cut through the room in wide arches, it wasn't like they were expecting company. Sam was surveying what they had to work with rather than looking for potential threats. A few tense moments later an they had the girl tied up right, her head hung down to her chest, Dean's neck ached in sympathy, though when she woke up the uncomfortable position was going to be the least of her problems.

Dean smiled at his brother when Sam left and came back with the cooler. Thoughtful to the bitter end. Dean wasn't crazy about the possibility of getting blood on their cooler, but it was good to have the beer, he was probably going to need it by the time this was all over.

Actually beer was a little too weak, he was going to need to drown himself in bourbon.

He flipped a knife open and waited a fraction of a second seeing Sam's eyes flick from his hand to the girl, and back to Dean's face, the light rested on the girl, steady now. The trembling seemed to have died down in the face of how close they were to getting what they came for. Sam kind of looked like an over eager puppy. The thought was enough to make him laugh. Still smiling he nodded to his brother, “let up, Sammy.”

More effective then drugs or magic, her eyes opened immediately and she jerked upright. Her eyes flickered with unawareness for a moment, before she realized where she was, when the ropes stopped her short she looked up at them, panic taking over, “please” she whispered, “don't hurt me.”

Her eyes found Dean, “don't let him hurt me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean whispered, “you think I'd stop him?” He asked, his own maniac grin twisting his face, “think I'm not itching to cut into you just as bad as he is?”

The knife slipped between the bones of her wrist and twisted. Sam made a noise somewhere on the edge of pain. Dean jerked the knife out, felt it catch on the bone and tugged harder. The red stained blade glittered in the dark from the light now focused on it.

Dean wondered if Sam even realized the flashlight beam had left the girl.

“Want this baby?” He asked, his eyes on his brother, the words off his tongue before he could stop them. He traded Sam the knife for the flashlight, watched in sick fascination as Sam's pink tongue slipped along the silver blade.

Dean wondered if Sam cut himself would he even notice?

The girl started struggling in earnest. Dean turned back to her, “what? That scares you?” He laughed pulled the backup knife out, the one that was actually his, and grinned, “You're going to have a long night, I'll ask questions, and you'll answer them, or I'm going to get creative with this knife. And when I get bored, Sam's going to take over. So if you know what's good for you, you'll keep me entertained. The longer you manage to stay on my good side, the easier this is going to go for you.”

“Anything you want to know just ask,” she said struggling back against her bonds trying to get away from the blade Dean hand teasing at the collar of her shirt. The material separated with a whisper, and fell open, “pretty,” Dean said in appreciation, “pretty girls get hurt worse, you know that right? It's true out there,” he gestured toward the door, “it's true in here,” he pointed the knife back at her. “you're going to bleed, you're going to beg, you're going to tell me everything you know about anything I ask, and when you run out of things you know, you're going to start making shit up.” He smiled, “and it's not going to matter, there's no one coming for you, there's no way out, you're ours bitch.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

The girl hung limp in her restraints, conscious but barely, her breath was coming out in gasping hiccups that made Dean think they'd punctured one of her lungs. Dean was sitting on the cooler, beer in one hand, and the knife buried in the wooden support beam beside him. Dean wasn't entirely sure what Sam was doing to her, but whatever it was he seemed to be enjoying it. The girl was stripped down to her underwear, her once white bra stained vibrant red. Dean watched his brother lick the blood off the swell of her breast and fought against the sudden hardness between his legs. The last thing he needed was to start getting off on this. He willed the vague trace of arousal away, fucking hormones, they got him almost as high as Sam, and Sam was a fucking junkie for it.

His addiction looked good on him though. Filled him out in all the right places. The flush on his cheeks, the rock solid bulk of muscle he'd been building up since this mess had started, the air of control and power, it was a potent combination. Enough that even Dean was affected by it. He felt sorry for anyone who had to resist it without the benefit of being blood related. Hell even with it, Dean was edging pretty fucking close to wanting Sam.

It was a stupid fucking thought, he didn't want Sam, he wanted to fuck the damn smirk off his brother's lips. Wanted the blood that was smeared around Sam's lips like lip gloss to leave a ring around his cock. Wanted to push that smug son of a bitch to his knees and make him admit that he liked it.

It was the fucking hormone high talking, so Dean did his best to ignore it. The people they'd been before would kill them for what they'd become. It was a chilling thought. But then again, they'd been pretty naive in thinking the world was black and white. That monsters were monsters, and they were the sorry sobs who was stuck with the clean up job.

They were still doing the job. They were just enjoying it more now.

Dean realized that the girl was talking, the first words she had said in hours, it was hard to hear, through the wheezing of her lung and the pounding of adrenaline making his ears ring, but he could see her lips moving, couldn't quite make it out though.

Sam nodded, bent down far enough to lick the blood from her thigh up just teasing at the leg band of her panties. Dean held his breath, watched Sam lift her leg over his shoulder and press his mouth against the vee of her legs, sucking her clit through the blood stained silk.

Dean felt he should probably say something, but the way her mouth was open, and her eyes were closed she didn't seem to mind.

It wasn't until Sam stood up and grabbed the knife out of the beam that Dean started to say something. Not that he was going to stop him if Sam decide he was done with her, just they had a plan they had to follow, to get the most out of each one. Ending it early messed up the plan.

Sam reached for the rope and Dean stood up. He found himself pushed back down unable to move.

“Sammy?” Dean said softly, his best big brother voice, Sam had to know he couldn't let her down, they' just have to retie her later. But the rope parted under Sam's quick slice and she felt into his arms. He lowered her down onto the floor the small amount of blood there made it slick, but Sam didn't seem to mind. His hand was between the girls legs and her back was arching. She moaned, a low deep sound.

Dean's brain barely had time to register the wheezing had stopped. Her hands were in Sam's hair and Dean fought the urge to break her wrist. All the effort he'd put into breaking her with minimal blood loss and Sam was undoing it? With a thought, like it was nothing. Dean watched Sam slice into her thigh his lips sealed over the wound and she arched up, her voice screaming out unintelligibly.

Dean ran a hand over his burning eyes, not enough whiskey in the world for what he was watching. He couldn't look away though, it was like watching a train wreck, or something equally horrible, like watching his brother get a girl off on the basement floor of a condemned house.

Her leg was an unbroken white line against the dark and Dean realized the flashlight was aimed at it. The light weird and dark, made it look like part of some thing long dead and forgotten, except when Sam's shoulder pressed against her thigh she spread it open wider for him. He pulled back, Dean heard his voice, the soft familiar cadence saying something stupid. Dean could kick him. If Sam would just let him leave, he'd save the kicking him for later.

“are you sure?” Dean echoed the words, “Sam, come on man, aren't we past the point of asking if she's sure?”

Dean felt his voice choke off, that just wasn't even fucking fair. The bitch with her legs spread didn't seem to be having any trouble talking. Her voice grated on Dean's fucking nerves. The next one he was cutting her damn tongue out first.

It was easier to ignore what Sam was doing while he was fuming about being shut up. It didn't stop all the blood in his head from rushing south when he heard her screaming out her orgasm. As soon as he could get out of there he was going to go find someone willing and fuck them through the mattress. It was no longer an option he needed to get off like he needed to take his next breath.

The far wall held his gaze, while he tried to pick out the lines between the bricks, he could still hear Sam whispering lies that everything was going to be okay, that they were almost done with her, that she was doing good. It wasn't like it mattered what she thought, the girl had what they both needed. Dean needed to cut into her, to feel her blood soaking into his skin, and hear her screams while he took her apart, Sam needed to drink her dry. To sate the vampiric blood lust that Dean couldn't begin to understand, but saw how it twisted his brother into something that was pure power and breathing sex. Lucky for them the fastest way to make them bleed was Dean's knife.

Dean's eyes were drawn back to the sound of her gasp. Dean saw Sam's lips going to a crimson streak on her neck. He knew by the way he was kneeling over her, with her panties shoved around a slim ankle and her ass lifted onto his lap, Sam was inside her. Not fucking her in earnest, just buried in the warm body while he pulled the essence of what she was from her veins.

Dean was happy to see the look of pain on her face again, to see that even while she was breathing hard, her leg trembling, so was at least feeling the cut Sam inflicted. It was when Sam shoved her leg upward that Dean looked away, didn't need to see the visual to match the sound of flesh against flesh, the noises from both of them. There was a spider web hanging from the rafters, dust filled and abandoned. He tested the limits to how far Sam would let him go. Not far enough. He tugged a little harder against the resistance hoping his brother would get the message and leg him go the pressure increased until Dean had to stop fighting it.

It seemed like forever, before he heard the too familiar sound of Sam cumming. Dean didn't look at him until Sam was standing in front of him. The knife in one hand, the coil of rope in the other. Dean's heart skipped a terrified beat he couldn't account for. His eyes were drawn back to the blood red smear at the corner of Sam's lips, the way he was breathing hard, but he was no longer sweating, which was something because while not as hot as the car had been it was still stifling in the room.

The girl was laying still on the floor, her eyes open, but glazed her legs still trembled slightly

“Is she-”

“still breathing,” Sam cut him off, “but barely.” the damn smug look was back. Dean stood up and took the rope from Sam's hand ignoring the mess of the body that Sam had left behind, the next part was less fun, but just as important. Dean worked her panties back on her, ignoring mess Sam left behind He tied the rope around her ankles and in seconds she was suspended from the rafters upside down. Sam came back, a plastic bucket was place underneath her. Sam brushed the hair from her face, and her glazed eyes met his, there was more awareness in them then Dean would have liked, there was no reason for her to be conscious for this part when they'd already taken everything she had to give. Sam pressed a fingertip over his lips when she tried to talk, then tapped the side of his head. Dean got the gist. Sam didn't need to _hear_ her, to hear her, he already knew. Her eyes drifted closed, Dean held the container in place while Sam pulled her hair off her neck, held her head in position in one hand, the knife cut half way through her neck, blood poured from the arch in her neck to the bucket, dripping loud in against the plastic as it filled slowly. Dean wasn't sure exactly when she stopped breathing, but she went limp against the restraints fairly quickly, and Sam held her where he wanted her watching the blood drip with a look of boredom.

Dean was able to move as soon as she was out, Sam let her go, let her swing slightly, an arch of red dripped around her body before it settled back where he wanted her, he licked the bright scarlet from his fingertips and smiled at Dean.

The look that Dean knew meant he was happy and sated, and had exactly what he needed to last them for a while. Dean's need to cut and mark and destroy would be a problem before Sam would. He knew it, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Sam's was an addiction, Dean's was worse, like who he was had been changed to make room for this violent depraved part that needed to feel the skin break, and the bones shatter. He mourned for who he had been, but he still felt the hum in his body. For a little while at least they were both good. They had to clean up and clear out before someone came to see why there was a car parked outside.

Dean poured the blood into the gallon jugs while Sam dealt with the body, he put her clothes back on her, wiped away any of the bloody streaks his tongue had missed earlier. It was a weird ritual with him Dean didn't even try to understand. Sam always cleaned them up after he was done with them, moving them like they were dolls pliable and easy. It wasn't like they weren't just going to burn the body and clothes and everything else. But it was Sam's thing so Dean didn't say anything about it


	4. Chapter 4

Some days it was like nothing ever changed. They were sitting in a diner, Sam was talking about a hunt, and Dean was overwhelmed with how normal it seemed. How close they were to what they had been. Maybe it was the fact he had winked at the waitress and Sam laughed at him, or maybe it was the angle of the sun through the window shining on his brother's hair, maybe it was a moment's insanity, but for a fraction of a second Dean forgot.

His heart felt like it was going to burst. It was the best he'd felt in a long time, he'd kill to keep that smile on Sam's face. Hell he had killed to keep Sam happy, to give him what he needed. His mind flashed back to the image of Sam with his pink lips wrapped around Dean's fingertips. It was an out of no where completely inappropriate thought that had him going from zero to rock hard in a heart beat. He was so very fucked if Sam found out.

He noticed the low vibration in the table, “dude, stop bouncing your leg,” he muttered, kicking him to cover the sudden panic he felt, the moment was over, and reality was coming back and he wasn't ready to face it again, wasn't ready to have to hunt down another girl with the stuff to make Sam okay again.

He would put it off for as long as he could, they always did, but in the end, what Sammy needed, Sammy got. He wouldn't wait quite so long this time, wouldn't wait until it was to the point Sam would lose control again.

Last time had been a fluke, they'd had a girl picked out, but she disappeared when they went to take her. They were sure she was the right girl, but apparently she took off. Maybe she got some idea who was coming for her. Or maybe she got called home, either way it left them in a bind, grabbing the first one that Sam could find.

It was almost too long, Dean wasn't sure what would happen if he didn't get what he needed, and he didn't want to find out.

Sam's smile had melted, his leg stilled and he looked out the window, some far away look on his face Dean hated. Like he was thinking too damn much again.

“Sam?” Dean needed to distract him, needed to get his mind off it until they could figure out their next move.

“'m fine” Sam lied. He always said he was fine, and he never was. “just a habit.” he whispered.

That was the problem wasn't it? That it wasn't just a habit, not anymore. Now it was a tell. Now it was the first trembling sign that Sam was out of juice and was about to start burning hot again.

Sam disappeared for a few minutes just after the waitress brought their food out, Dean pretended not to notice when he came back from the car rather than from the bathroom where he said he was going. He pretended not to notice the way Sam's eyes followed their waitress a little too intently.

Dean growled his name, “dude, focus, case.”

Sam shook his head and started talking, there was a hardness to his voice that was a little too cold. A promise of something to come, that sent chills down Dean's spine. He wasn't sure if he noticed it because he knew where Sam had been, because it was that obvious, or because he knew what Sam was, and was expecting it.

Dean watched the way his brother's eyes shifted from the waitress to him, the hunger not leaving them. Dean squirmed slightly under the intensity and averted his eyes back to his plate. The food held no real appeal to him, but he ate it with relish. Enjoying the sweet sticky syrup and crisp bacon like a starving man at his last meal.

Sam didn't eat much. He never really had, before Dean had thought it was weird, Sam was a pretty big guy, he ate less than most girls Dean had known. Though in retrospect the more he drank, the less he ate. Sam didn't seem to run on carbs any more than Dean did. The thought made him smile, they were definitely a match made in hell.

“What?” Sam asked seeing the look on his face.

“Nothing.” Dean shook his head, “you eat like a teenage girl.”

“Not everyone wants to die of a heart attack at 30 Dean.” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Dean looked down at the stack of pancakes. “not really in the cards for me anyways.”

The playful spark died in his brother's eyes.

“dude, don't get emo on me, it was a joke.” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes, trying not to feel the pain the thought put in his stomach.

Sam smiled at him, it didn't reach his eyes, “I guess a heart attack on a plate isn't really a problem for you.” he shrugged, “I'll have to think of another way to make your heart stop.”

Dean felt it. Felt the beat slow to a stuttering stop, his eyes went wide in a panic. He opened his mouth but there wasn't a sound. Sam wouldn't...couldn't..the panic increased as his vision started darkening, a word pressed past his lips, Sam's name. Sam was going to send him back, after everything it didn't make sense. His head was swimming, the dark threatening to swallow him to drag him down into the pit he wouldn't be able to claw his way out of there without Sam.

He couldn't survive another second of that, not without Sam.

“Dean you gotta breath.” Sam was saying, when the darkness receded one hand resting on Dean's back, rubbing a soft circle he was in Dean's face, and Dean still felt like he couldn't breath like he couldn't see.

“I'm sorry,” Sam was whispering, the fear on his face enough to match Dean's own, “dude, I swear it was a joke, I didn't mean to give you a panic attack, I swear.” Sam was babbling, and Dean was still struggling to catch his breath, tears streaming down his face. He wiped at his eyes with a napkin, his skin burned and tingled and hurt to touch.

The next few minutes were a blur, but Dean was in the car, in the passenger seat with Sam driving them away from the diner, Dean didn't even know if he had paid, he felt bad for not leaving the waitress a tip, but then he had almost died at their table so if they had a clue what was going on they were probably glad to see them go.

“Talk to me.” Sam said at last, pulling over to the side of the road, “what the hell happened back there.”

“I don't know.” Dean said, “minor heart attack? You tell me genius it was your idea.”

“You're not going back,” Sam said his voice quiet, but echoing in the enclosed space. “not without me.”

“No Sam,” Dean couldn't stand the idea of Sam there, couldn't stand the thought of what it would do to him. Sam deserved better than Dean could give him.

The rumble of the engine soothed his nerves, and Dean found himself drifting. It was almost dark by the time they stopped again. Dean saw the way Sam's hand shook when he reached for the door. The question nagged at the back of his mind, exhaustion or withdrawal? He wasn't going to ask, not yet, not while Sam still seemed to have it under control.

Dean slept for almost twelve hours, slept through the gas stations and the soft rock that Sam had turned on, slept through being stuck behind a tractor, and through a thunderstorm that apparently rocked the car on her wheels. And Sam hadn't woken him up.

When they stumbled into the motel for the night, Sam looked dead on his feet, and Dean felt fully awake for the first time since breakfast. He didn't think a panic attack would leave him that tired, apparently so. One more thing he wasn't aware of.

“I'm going to go grab some food, you want something?” he asked the already sleeping form of his brother. Sam didn't answer.

Dean went by the car first, grabbed one of the water bottles from the cooler and went back inside. He shook Sam's arm until he woke up and shoved it into his hand. Sam looked from it to Dean and shook his head shoving it back to him. It didn't matter what he said, Sam needed something with more bite than coffee. He looked pale, the trembling that had been minor at breakfast had become noticeable and the circles under his eyes looked like bruises.

“you need it,” Dean said, still Sam fought it, fought it constantly.

“not yet,' Sam whispered, “just a little longer, please Dean.” he begged, “i can make it a little longer.”

“okay,” Dean relented, not because he wanted to, but because of how badly Sam wanted to hold out. Like he had a choice in the end. At some point Sam's hunger would be stronger, Dean just hoped he didn't hurt himself to try to prove a nonexistent point.

The longer he waited, the less in control Sam was, the more desperate he became.

Dean felt his own itch, to pour some of the pain he was feeling into someone else, someone willing and able and open to it. Instead he found a pretty girl in a bar and gave himself into wringing a completely different set of screams from her lips. Tried to placate his need to rip and tear and hurt, by letting his fingers grip a little harder than he normally would, let his teeth leave rings across her thighs, let the movements get as rough as she wanted Careful not to lose control. In the end he was worn out as much by his effort to not hurt her, as he was by the sex itself

Sam was staring at the door when Dean came in, his shoes off and Deans gun on the bed next to him. Dean could see how blood shot his eyes were, and how tired he appeared, he moved slowly when he took the gun, held it out to Dean by the barrel. “you know I can't beat this.” he whispered, “I'm going to end up hurting you,” he said softly, “I need you to stop me.”

“no.” Dean said putting the gun on the table, grabbing Sam's hands with his own, feeling the way they trembled and they shook.

“Talk to me Sammy, tell me what's going on.”

“They're people Dean,” he whispered, “underneath the blood and the monster, there's a person dying in everyone of them, because I kill them.” he shuddered hard, his breath coming out hard, Dean saw the red marks in a ring along his wrist like he'd dug his fingernails into his own arm, blood dripped out of a few of the half moons.

“|No, Sam, they're monster's.” he said, “you got to believe me, you're not hurting anyone that doesn't deserve it.”

“When I hurt you, will you deserve it?” Sam's words were ice through him. The pain he could handle, but Sam had never once stopped at the pain, the line Dean drew and hadn't crossed, Sam crossed every single time. Of course every one of them was begging for it by the time he had them stripped down and flayed open for him, but how much of that was because they wanted it? And how much was because Sam wanted them to want it?

“Man, you've got to quit doing this to yourself,” Dean said.

“Please,” Sam whispered, his eyes falling to the bite mark on Dean's neck. His fingertips trailed up Dean's arm, his thumb bit into the mark, pressing just hard enough against the artery to cut off circulation for a fraction of a second.

Dean shook his head, Sam seemed as mesmerized by the mark on his neck as Dean felt with the look on his brother's face, the soft, far away look. Sam pulled his thumb away and it rubbed the rough stubble along Dean's jaw. Sam's fingers curled around the back of his neck.

Dean's lips parted to say something, maybe to ask Sam what he was thinking, but the soft press of the pad of Sam's thumb against his lip cut off his ability to speak. Dean stood silent while Sam rubbed gentle circles against his lip, urging his lips open. Dean's tongue darted out to nervously lick at the dryness on his lips.

“What am I to you?” Sam asked softly. His eyes meeting Dean's and pining him where he stood.

The words on the tip of his tongue were, _my brother_ they stuck there, refused to budge past his frozen lips.

“Come on Dean,” Sam said, his voice whisper quiet, his breath hot against Dean's mouth, “what am I when you would kill to keep me with you?” if it was possible he moved closer. Dean was forced to look up at him, and Sam was not that much taller than him, it shouldn't have made him feel small, and helpless, and held down, but it did.

“What do you think of me when your hand is between my legs?” Sam asked. Dean listened for the accusation Sam wasn't making, and heard it just the Same.

Sam's hand had found it's way behind Dean's back, pulled him up close till the were pressed solid together. “I don't know,” Dean admitted, hating how badly he wanted Sam to make a real move, one not fueled by need for something else.

Sam made a noise somewhere near a growl, “what are you thinking when your eyes go black?” Sam asked? “Thinking about what I could do to you with a thought?”

Dean found himself pressed back against the door, Sam's thigh wedged between his own. Sam tilted his head up and Dean's breath was swallowed by Sam's lips. Sam broke away with a pained look on his face, the pleading was back, “Dean please, I need you to pull the trigger, or I'm going to end up fucking you.”

Dean saw the pained look on his face, saw the way he was pulling back, and that was the problem wasn't it, he didn't really care. It should bother him, should freak him out, should get some response other than the dull acceptance. But it didn't. He'd already figured it was getting too close to keep ignoring it. The last girl, Sam had literally held Dean there while he fucked her, had let him look away but not leave, or speak or fight it. It didn't surprise him as much as it should that Sam was fighting against the pull between them.

The only question remaining, how hard was Dean willing to fight it? Hard enough to put a bullet in the only reason he had for living? Hard enough to scream and rail against the control? Hard enough to stop him?

“Impala,” Dean whispered, “if um, if it gets too far or too crazy, just, you know, in case we need it.” he blushed.

“A safe word?” Sam asked looking stunned.

“Yeah,” he felt the heat all the way down to his toes he looked at a spot at the base of Sam's neck just above the collar of his shirt.

“Ever used a safe word before?” Sam asked looking momentarily more like the brother Dean remembered, the stupid amused smirk not helping the situation.

“Never needed one before.” Dean said, then dragged his mind away from the trip down memory lane it tried to take, “and hell's not big on safe-wording out.”

“Guess not,' Sam said thoughtfully, “You're serious? You'd let me do whatever I want to you?”

“Whatever you need, I'm here to take care of you.” Dean promised, meaning it. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Sam. It was weird to look at the possibility of them having sex that indifferently, but compared to the semi-frequent hand jobs in the car it really wasn't that big of a leap.

“fuck, Dean.” Sam sighed against his lips, “can't wait to taste you,”

Dean felt the flicker of panic, remembering the string of used up bodies his brother left behind.

“Gonna do it right though,” his voice a whiskey gravel and Dean felt it coil through him like living want.

Before he could ask what that even meant Sam was pulling away from him, “last chance to use that.” he said point at Dean's gun. “I won't even look.”

Dean let his eyes linger on the pistol. Let them drift back to the broad expanse of Sam's shoulders, to the narrow breadth of his waist, to the curve of his ass. He brushed his brothers hair off his neck and squeezed there, a promise, without words.

He moved around Sam got in front of him and had his full attention before he said, “Not gonna happen Sammy,” the distance between them he closed more out of necessity than want. If they were going to cross that line, then it was time to cross it. He pressed his lips to Sam's slowly testing the water, it felt good to kiss. It never really mattered who the other person was as long as they were enjoying it.

Sam was good at this. Dean half thought when his brother took the lead, his mouth wiping thoughts out of Dean's head beyond the pleasure of the moment. It was like being drunk, he felt like he was in a haze, and slightly off balance. When Sam pulled away Dean waited for him to come back a few seconds before partially opening his eyes.

“I love that look,” Sam said smiling, “like you can't keep your eyes open. I love that I was the one that put it there.”

Dean's eyes opened the rest of the way as the words sank in. He wasn't even sure how to take it. He felt Sam's hand across the small of his back, felt the warmth there and chased after his lips, Sam let him have control of it for half a second before Dean found himself being kissed with more hunger than he had expected. Sam took control and Dean let him. He was walked backward until he fell onto the bed. Sam followed him down. Before breaking away and stretching out beside him. He looked down at Dean like he was something precious, but there was a quiet hunger burning in the look.

“I'm glad I got you back,” he whispered.

Dean didn't want to talk about it, definitely didn't want to think about it, but he smiled in spite of himself, “well I heard you wouldn't take no for an answer.”

Sam smiled at him, but there was a coldness to the smile, “I needed you,” he said, “nothing else mattered.”

Dean let those words stretch between them, wasn't that the problem? They needed each other more than they needed anything. Before, this never would have been okay, Dean was willing to sell his soul for his brother, he loved him more than a person should be capable of loving anyone, but he never would have been okay with ignoring the blood between them. Now the only problem Dean had was a different kind of blood.

The way they both were twisted into something darker, then they'd ever dreamed possible.

Sam still seemed to be fighting that need. If he'd stop fighting it so damn hard he could be stronger, be as powerful as he had been when he rescued Dean. The thought made him shiver, his cock pulsed, he hadn't realized that he was lost the second he had seen Sam. Blood stained, and radiant, white fire in his touch burning through demons like they were nothing. Dean had a blade in hand that had fallen from his numb fingers. For a second he thought he'd failed, that Sam had come to join him in his hell. And then they were moving, through corridors to no where, demons fell around them in droves and Dean could feel it then, the power and the draw, the way electricity sizzled through his skin at Sam's touch.

Sam could have burned him out of existence with a thought. But he didn't seem to care. The urge to follow where Sam led without question should have been a tip off, the urge to keep quiet and not ask questions even more so, but with everything, maybe Sam showing up wasn't enough to shock his system. The shock came later.

Came when they were locked up in a motel room and Dean noticed the first tremble in Sam's hands. The first signs something was wrong was like waking up from one nightmare to another.

Dean was drawn back to the present by Sam's mouth at his neck, sucking a mark into his skin that had Dean arching up off the mattress.

'You sure?” Sam asked his hands roaming down Dean's stomach, “You don't have to do this. You don't have to let me do this.”

Dean grabbed Sam's wrist and guided it to his crotch, pressed their hands together against the hard line of his cock, “I want you,' he said, “so stop bitching, and let me kiss you.” Dean rolled toward him, his hand cupped his brother's jaw, and he pulled him forward until their lips were pressed together again. Sam's hand was still pressed against him, not moving but also not moving away either. Dean thrust slightly against his palm, trying to get him with the program, to get some real friction started.

Sam laughed against his lips and Dean felt the grip around his cock tighten, separated by the layer of soft worn denim.

Dean steered his thoughts away from thinking about how good it felt to be able to kiss Sam, and be touched by him. It was dangerous territory, he tried to approach it like he would with anyone else, slow and sensual and building up in intensity, but Sam took the lead from him. His touches weren't hesitant, they weren't slow and cautious they were the direct, to the point movements of someone who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. Dean just had to go with it.

It would make sense if it were rough and rushed and some dirty thing they were doing because they were both changed but it wasn't. Dean kept expecting Sam to pull out the knife and start carving into him to get at the red beneath the surface, but Sam's touches never crossed the line into too rough. They were demanding, but not painful. Sam sat up and stripped his shirts off Dean followed, and they were both lying on the rumpled bed, jeans and shoes still on. Sam's hands roamed across his exposed skin, while they continued to make out like teenagers afraid to go farther.

Dean took in the layer of muscle his brother had built up. Sam's lips were on his stomach, kissing the skin there. Dean felt a sudden surge of self consciousness. He wasn't bulked up the way Sam was. With his practically 8pack abs and pecs that were larger than some girls tit's. Dean wasn't fat, by no means, but he wasn't well defined the way Sam was either. He squirmed out of Sam's grip and moved his attention to his brother, to exploring all the ways that Sam had change while he was gone. All the left over soft kid angles of his brother before Dean had been dragged from his side were gone, replaced by hard planes and strong lines.

The changes were easy to ignore when he wasn't looking at the miles of naked skin. But when he was he knew that Sam wasn't the same, wasn't the kid he'd sold his soul for. That was good, Dean wasn't the kid that had sold his soul for his little brother either. He was the thing that was left behind when all those good intentions had been tortured out of him.

“You still with me?” Sam asked pulling Dean out of his own thoughts.

“Yeah,” Dean said then teased, “just figuring out the best way to rock your world.”

Dean reached for the button on Sam's jeans and tugged it open quickly while his lips explored his stomach. Sam's hand on his shoulder was all the encouragement he needed to slide down farther, dragging the pants down to his ankles. Dean urged his shoes off, and they fell on the floor loud against the quiet of their rapid breathing.

Sam let him get in position between his legs and Dean smiled up at him one hand snaked down between himself and the edge of the bed, positioning himself to somewhere a little less painful. The hard line of Sam's cock stood out against the red of his underwear and Dean wondered when he got such an interest in that particular color.

Dean pressed his lips against the head of Sam's cock through the fabric and smiled when he groaned and arched against the contact.

Dean wanted more, wanted to drag sounds from his brother, wanted to hear his pleasure. Dean's fingernails scrapped Sam's hips when he grabbed the waist band, but Sam didn't seem to mind, lifting his hips to let Dean strip him bear.

Dean flushed pink seeing the hard length lying against Sam's stomach. Thick and lined with veins, it would have been fucking intimidating if he didn't know Sam tended toward rough sex. Knowing it, he was half terrified.

He licked from the base to the tip, tasting the salty precum for the first time. It felt good against his tongue. He felt his own cock twitch with the bolt of desire that shot through him. “Jesus Sammy,” Dean growled wrapping his hand around the lower half of his cock, the first touch to his mouth was hesitant, slow and unsure. But he let his mouth open slightly around it, felt the silky sink pushing against his tongue. And relaxed into it. Let it slide a little deeper into his mouth. Sam made some desperate sound of encouragement and Dean tried to actually suck around the girth wedging his mouth open.

He looked up to see Sam raised up on one hand watching him with a hungry look. Encouraged Dean eased a little more into his mouth, watched Sam's eyes drift closed and felt his own start to water.

It was mostly a matter of trial and error but as soon as he found his rhythm he, he felt the surge of enjoyment taking Sam apart with his mouth and his hand.

It was easier than he expected, but wet, messy, and made his jaw hurt. It wasn't exactly the most glamorous he'd ever felt either with his eyes watering, and spit slipping out of the corner of his mouth. But Sam didn't seem bothered by it.

Dean didn't know how long he was there, but he was just starting to feel like he really had it figured out when Sam was pulling him up, crushing him into a kiss and rolling them so Dean was lying on his back. Sam was rougher shoving Dean's jeans off his hips not bothering to get them all the way off. Dean arched in surprised pleasure when a wet hot mouth wrapped around his cock in one smooth motion. He didn't have time to really marvel at how well Sam did that particular trick before Sam was straddling Dean's head, pushing his cock against his lips.

It definitely made it better, though Sam filled his mouth more from the change in angle, and made it slightly harder to breath. Dean felt Sam using one hand to get the pants worked farther down his legs, giving Sam more room an leverage to work with.

When they were down to Dean's calves Sam pressed his legs apart, one hand working around his balls squeezing while he continued to move his mouth around Dean's cock. His tongue felt like it was everywhere at once. Dean mimicked the action the best he could from the angle he was laying at, finally figured out it worked best when he looped his arm around the thick muscle of Sam's thigh. Sam's moan vibrated against his cock, Dean loved the sound. Loved that he was the one that drug it out of him.

They stayed there, mouths working in tandem working each other to the brink of orgasm over and over, each time back off just before the other shook apart under the force of it. Dean was breathless, his jaw hurt, and he desperately just needed to feel Sam swallow his cum.

Sam's hand found his arm, Dean felt spit slick fingers dragging along his own, as Sam guided his hand up and back. Dean watched one of Sam's long fingers press into himself. Smearing his own spit into him. Dean got the message when Sam guided his fingers back to the slick hole. The half gasped groan from Sam was just almost enough to make Dean cum.

Sam's fingers pressed against Dean's rim, and he didn't have time to put a thought to the action before he felt it sliding into him, smooth and quick and intense, and deep. Dean temporarily forgot what he was suppose to be doing, his head falling back against the bed. He felt the smile on his lips when Sam pulled away, “you okay?”

“uh, huh, just give me a second.”

“so you like it?” Sam asked softly, twisting his finger into some spot that Dean swore was going to make him cum any second.

Instead of answering Dean focused on feeling inside him, trying to find the spot that would make Sam shut up, it was obvious when he found it, both by the slightly different texture, and the way Sam's head fell against Dean's leg.

“Like that?” Dean asked.

“yeah,” Sam moaned, his hand gripped Dean's cock again, and he said, “just like that.” That was apparently the last Sam had to say on the subject because his mouth was back around the head of Dean's cock making it hard for him to think.

It wasn't too long before Sam was moving, up and away from him, one hand pressed hard at the base of his cock. His head pressed against Dean stomach and Dean could see nothing beyond Sam's stomach above him. His hands found Sam's thighs, one on either side, rubbing up to his thin waist. Urging Sam back into position, “wasn't done with you,” he whispered.

Sam resisted and Dean gave up for a minute moving out from underneath him. He moved until he was leaned up against the head of the bed an urged Sam up with him. Dean stroked his cock watching the slow return of control.

“Fucking hell I love the taste of you,” Sam growled and moved back between Dean's legs. Dean expected a warm mouth on his cock instead Sam pushed his legs apart and pressed his tongue straight into Dean. Dean let himself get lost in the sensation. The feel of Sammy eating him out wasn't enough and it was too much at the Same time, because Sam was down between his legs. His tongue doing things to Dean that he shouldn't even know how to do and his desperate hungry noises pushed Dean to the edge of his control. His hands were fisted in the blanket, his head thrown back against the wall and he fought to keep still, to not arch into the sensation, or grab onto Sam's hair and hold him there. When Sam's finger rejoined his tongue Dean was pretty sure he was going to die all over again.

Dean was having trouble thinking by the time Sam had a second finger inside him.

The third, had the aching promise of a burn, but it was good, pain that promised pleasure and had him biting down whimpers.

When Sam stopped Dean was at the shaking edge of cumming, so close that he couldn't stop the surprised noise of frustration at being so close and not getting there.

Sam kissed the noise from his lips, Dean was pressed down by the weight of him while Sam kissed him. Dean didn't complain about it, his hands finally tangled in the soft curls of his brother's hair and he let Sam kiss him like he was never going to get to do it again.

“God Dean,” Sam gasped against his neck while slowly rolling his hips to rub their cocks against each other. His lips moved up to bite harsh against the spot just beneath Dean's ear, “Can I fuck you?”

Dean wasn't sure what his answer was, words beyond him at that point, but he knew he made some sound of agreement. He felt the head of Sam's cock sliding against his rim, not pressing in yet, but he felt his heart step up a notch in anticipation. He smiled up at the concern on Sam's face.

“What are you waiting for an invitation?” He wrapped his hand around the back of Sam's neck and pulled him down closer, till he could whisper low and dirty in Sam's ear, “Fuck me, Sammy.” the words came out so hot to his own ears, he didn't doubt the effect they had on Sam. Especially when Sam raised up, looked down at Dean with unmasked hunger and shoved one of his legs up farther, giving him a better view when Sam reached between them to guide his cock into Dean.

Dean thought with a moment of panic maybe he should have paid more attention to just how big Sam was before urging him on that quickly, because the first stretch burned, and it just kept going, when Dean's body clenched and shuddered around the invasion Sam held still petting a hand down his thigh telling him how good he was.

“Come on Sammy,” he said, trying to sound like his cocky self, “I can take more than that.” he wanted all of it, it didn't matter that he could feel Sam so much deeper in him than anything had been before, it didn't matter that he felt huge, and it kind of hurt more than it kind of felt good. If he was going to take it from his little brother he'd be damned if he didn't take all the kid had to give.

But Sam wasn't moving. His hand had found Dean's cock, and was stroking it enough to get him thrusting up into the touch. Dean pushed back onto Sam, and was rewarded with another of those breathless groans.

It took a few minutes for Dean to find the right angle, but when he managed to relax enough to let Sam slide a little deeper into him he thought he would cum from the feeling alone. The way it seemed he could feel each inch rubbing along inside him, pushing past the point of resistance, it wasn't good yet, but if he could just get use to it, he figured he could probably really enjoy it.

Sam's hand on his hip forced him to stop moving, but it was only a few seconds before Sam was moving for both of them. Dean's brain short circuited when he realized how good it was feeling, how much better once he had stretched open around the thick girth of his brother's cock.

He shuddered hard at the thought, his _brother_ was the one fucking him. They were so fucking twisted, but he wasn't complaining, if anything that thought made him a little harder. His once sweet baby brother, was growling his name and holding him down like he was afraid Dean was going to squirm out of his grip. Dean had no intentions of going anywhere. But he wanted to know if it turned Sam on as much as it turned him on, he watched Sam's face, watched the pleasure there, the aggression that was so outside of typical Sam, he couldn't help but wonder, how much of it was Sam, how much of it was the addiction, and how much of it was the incest.

“That's it Sammy,” Dean whispered, “show me how much you love fucking your brother.”

Sam made a noise that was closer to a growl, than anything he'd done so far, Dean saw the way he was practically snarling, and it made his cock twitch harder, Sam was so fucking hot like that.

Sam pulled out of him quickly and grabbed Dean's hips flipping him onto his stomach. Sam grabbed Dean's wrists and moved them up above his head. Dean left them there, mostly because whatever Sam was doing had him curious.

Sam was back, pushing into him, easier than before because of the change in position. Sam was all the way inside Dean again in a second, his hand held both Dean's wrists above his head.

“Dean,” Sam whispered his name, “feel so good on my cock,” his teeth raked the back of Dean's neck, an Dean arched up into this next thrust. Despite the way Sam was holding him down he wasn't being rough, each thrust was gentle and deep and driving Dean out of his fucking mind. He was kissing spots along Dean's neck, “don't cum okay?” Sam whispered hand stroking down Dean's side while he thrust deep into Dean.

“Sammy,” Dean whined trying to spread his legs wider to get Sam to press against that spot that would make him do just that.

“Want to cum in you.” Sam said, “want to have my cum dripping out of your tight little ass.” He pressed his lips to Dean's temple, “then I want to ride your cock till you cum in me.” Sam nuzzled against the side of his face, lips hit the corner of Dean's mouth in a messy kiss. “want us to both go to bed leaking.”

Dean closed his eyes, let himself just feel the way they fit together and moved together. He couldn't lie, the idea of filling Sam with his cum was pretty damn tempting, he wanted to see the way Sam would look with Dean's cock spreading open his pretty pink cheeks Wanted to see how quick he could get hard again wanted to see if he could make Sam cum with his brother's cock inside him.

Dean moved with him, little words of encouragement falling from his lips, “just like that baby,” he whimpered, and moaned, “so good Sammy,” he let any thought that crossed his mind fall from his lips. Words of praise and encouragement, and teasing, and spread his legs wider pushing back into each thrust. Dean felt Sam go still, his hands bit into Dean's wrists as his grip tightened. He pushed as deep in as he could go and Dean pushed back, taking his cum as deep into him as it would go.

Sam moved out of him quickly and Dean rolled over, Sam's mouth was back on his cock, soaking it with his spit. Dean watched Sam straddle his waist, he grabbed Dean's cock and guided it into himself. Dean almost came just from feeling the way Sam took him in. one long fluid slide. His head thrown back and his back arched.

Dean's hand wrapped around the still hard length and Sam's breath hissed out from between his parted lips. Dean didn't have a chance to say anything else before Sam was moving on top of him, Dean would have liked to pretend he had better stamina, but he'd been on the brink of cumming half a dozen times. With the ghost ache of Sam's cock still in his body, and the wet scorching heat of Sam on his cock, and the look of absolutely fucked out bliss on his face, Dean held on as long as he could. Sam looked down at him, eyes sparkling bright and a mischievous smile curving his lips, “Cum for me,” he whispered and Dean felt Sam's nails rake down his stomach. Dean raised up off the bed, wrapped his arms around Sam's back and held onto him like he'd was afraid he was going to leave. Thrusting up into the man he'd died to protect.

He wasn't expecting to get hit so fucking hard with his orgasm. Sam above him and around him and surrounding him, was all that mattered. The soft sounds of encouragement fell on deaf ears. Dean couldn't think beyond the pleasure of filling his little brother.

Sam fell across him, his sweat sticky skin pressed against Dean's own, too hot, but at the same time, he couldn't imagine asking him to move. Dean pressed a soft kiss against his brother's forehead, feeling happy, and relaxed, and sated.

Dean groaned in disappointment when Sam moved off of him and stretched out on the bed beside him. He smiled, and dean wanted to drown in that smile.

Before, maybe he would have asked if they were going to be okay, ask if Sam had regrets, it was amazing to not have to care about that. They weren't okay, they both knew it.

He rolled toward Sam, his hand reached out of it's own accord and brushed the sweat wet hair behind his ear. “I still love you, you know, I didn't think I'd still be able to after I changed.” he shrugged, “but I do.” it was too much feeling, too much of an admission of weakness, he swallowed down the rest of the words threatening to pour out of his traitorous mouth. Instead he grinned up at the ceiling, “that was awesome, by the way, just letting you know, definitely like top 10 lays of my life.”

“Top ten huh?” Sam shrugged, “next time I'll try harder.”

Dean let the quiet spin out between them. Listened to the soft sound of Sam breathing and wondered how long it'd be until they needed to make another kill. How long before the shaking got worse, or how long until Dean started to feel the anxious, need to hurt something.

He didn't want to tell Sam he was looking forward to it. That he liked the way Sam looked with blood on his hands and clinging to his lips. He wanted to spread that vibrant red across Sam's skin, wanted to see his fingerprints in crimson over his hips.

Dean left Sam where he lay, and found himself staring in the mirror, watching his eyes flicker between green and black void. He hated what he'd become, hated what Sam had become, but he didn't feel the need to fight it, that black pit in his stomach that said they shouldn't be doing this, was a remnant of a man he no longer was. It had no place in the lives they were currently living.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean sat on a bar stool leaned over a glass of whiskey whispering in the ear of a pretty girl. He saw the look on Sam's face from across the bar, something broken and twisted and full of rage, it sent a thrill straight through him. The girl looked up a little concerned, “do you know him?” she asked seeing where Dean was looking and getting shifting uncomfortably farther away from Sam and incidentally closer to Dean, her placed his hand on her waist, “don't worry about it sweetheart, that's my brother, he's just pissed cause I wasn't there to pick him up from ballet class.”

She laughed, a nervous sound that grated on his nerves, “so I guess we're not going to..” she let the words trail off and the disappointment in her voice was too much for him to ignore.

“oh, if you're still interested after I deal with Sammy, we definitely are.” He let his fingers linger on the back of her neck, slid his half empty glass toward her, “get that refilled for me? I'll be back in two minutes.” she nodded and smiled up at him.

Outside under the glow of the streetlight dean could see how not okay Sam was. He was too pale, too shaky, too deep into a serious looking withdrawal. He pressed him back against the post it swayed slightly under their combined weight the light casting fractured shadows around them.

“Sammy, when was the last time you had what you need?”

Sam didn't answer him, his eyes cut away from Dean back to the door they'd just come out of. “I'm fine, just wondered where you were.”

Dean laughed at him, leave it to Sam to swear he was fine when he was barely standing. “how much do you need?” He asked softly.

Sam shook his head and dean felt rage boiling in him, after everything he was still fighting it, still pretending that at the end of the day they were going to be okay, that they could ever go back to being human.

Dean pulled his knife out of his pocket an opened it on deft fingers, “gonna take care of you Sammy. But you gotta let me.” The knife stung when it broke through the skin on Dean's arm, he saw the war within in his brother, but knew it was already lost, all he had to do really was offer it and wait.

“No,” Sam said and shoved Dean away from him, taking him by surprise, he hadn't expected more than token resistance. “Not from you.”

“Come on Sammy, you need it, it'll make you feel better.”

Sam closed his eyes, his breath coming out fast and hard. “Not from you Dean.” Sam said.

Dean nodded, “okay, if that's what you want.” He moved lightening quick pressing himself up against Sam, nipping the hard line of his jaw. “but I think you're just scared, come on Sammy, what's the worst that could happen?”

Sam's eyes drifted closed, Dean could tell he was losing the fight. “Dean,” his name was a breathless whine and it was exactly what Dean needed to hear.

“come on baby, you know I'll always take care of you.” Dean felt Sam's fingers dig into his wrist. Felt the hesitation before he dragged it up to his mouth.

Sam's other hand splayed across Dean's back dragging him in closer, It hurt in a way he didn't expect, but it wasn't the most painful thing ever. Dean smiled watching the pleasure and anger warring on Sam's face. “That's it Sammy,” Dean whispered, rubbing against him, feeling how hard just having his hands on Dean had made Sam.

Sam's eyes had a sex glazed look that Dean couldn't have resisted if he wanted to. “Got a girl in there, eating out of my hand, what do you say we share?” He asked softly, “let you do whatever you want to her, let you pretend that it's her blood singing through your veins, I want her Sammy,”

He answered, “want to do things to her, you wouldn't believe, but I don't want to do it without you,”

If he wasn't strung out on the good stuff, Sam would have argued, would have asked if Dean was hunting people, but as it was, with his brain in a blood red haze, he didn't care. Didn't want to care either.

Sam whispered his name and dean knew his brother was lost in whatever the blood did to him, lost to the need for it, his movements got harder, more demanding until he broke away and spun them, Dean was caught off balance when he was pushed up against the wall. Sam's lips dragged against his own hard enough to bruise. Sam's hands were moving everywhere at once, dean felt his pants slip down his hips when Sam jerked the button free. Felt Sam's hand wrap around his cock, his head thumped painfully against the brick wall.

“Jesus Sammy,” he meant for it to sound dirty, instead it came out breathless and desperate.

In a heartbeat Dean had to catch himself from landing face first against the wall when Sam spun him. A hand cupped his ass through the rough denim, fingers pressing hard against him. Sam forced his legs wider apart as he rubbed, pulling Dean's ass toward him with rough hands.

“Gonna fuck you,” sam whispered, “right here, against the wall, like the slut you are.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Dean whispered, his heart thumping an erratic beat in his chest. This wasn't the way it was suppose to go, but he didn't care, nothing sounded as good as the heat in his brother's voice.

Sam dragged his jeans down his hips, not even to his knees, just far enough to let Sam shove a finger straight into him.

“Fuck, Sam, lube.” Dean said, forcing himself to relax against the sudden intrusion.

“You can take it.” Sam whispered, but dean heard him spit. Felt the finger tips rubbing it around his rim it didn't help much, but it was better than nothing.

As soon as dean started feeling good, Sam shoved another finger into him, dragging a loud moan from his lips, before he could stop himself. Sam's hand covered his mouth.

It was like a hard line to his cock, he twitched and dripped precum against the cold stone.

“Like that?” Sam whispered, fingers shifting up just enough to cut off his breath. Dean fought the urge to fight him, an instinct that he never thought he would ignore, but with Sam, he did, let Sam suffocate him, if that's what he wanted, pressed his ass back onto the fingers working inside him, and fought not to cum on the spot.

Sam's finger's left him, but the hand didn't leave his mouth, Sam guided his cock into him, pushing Dean harder against the wall.

“So fucking tight,” he gasped against the back of Dean's neck. “Like a fucking virgin Dean.” Dean rolled his eyes, but Sam couldn't see it. There was something possessive in the way Sam held him the free hand came up to wrap around dean's throat, “I'm going to send you back in there, leaking my cum. Then if you can still get the slut to go home with you, then you can do whatever you want to her, I'll even help.”


	6. Chapter 6

The girl was still waiting when Dean got back into the bar, the drink was not. She smiled at him, her eyes darted back to where Sam was still watching them at the doorway. She looked at Dean with a question, “Sorry I had to take care of something, but I'm back. You still interested?” he asked, feeling more nervous than he'd felt in a long time, half afraid she'd take the offer half afraid she wouldn't.

A long time ago she would have been exactly what he was looking for. Pretty, and willing, and just a hint of a wild side waiting for him to give it somewhere to go. One night where she could be anything she wanted to be with the safety of a stranger she wouldn't have to face in the morning.

He'd never considered the possibility they could bring someone in without both being driven by their more violent natures. It wasn't something they'd talked about, and she could satisfy Dean's itch, but there wasn't anything that she could do for Sam.

It scared the hell out of him that Sam didn't seem to care. Most of the time he was good, but there was a madness to his brother that Dean had never seen in him before. Like nothing really mattered to him beyond the blood and the things that happened because of it.

Sam was still fighting against it, if he had the choice he would still wait until he was sick and weak to take what he really needed. But he no longer fought when Dean decided it was time.

The girl followed him out to the car. Dean didn't bother opening the doors, just lifted her up onto the hood and let his lips linger over her neck, down into the dipping neckline, he kissed the space between her breasts, and thrust up against her letting her feel how hard he was.

“Fuck,” she whispered, “you don't want to go somewhere more private?”

“Why?” He asked, “I thought you might appreciate an audience.”

The sound that came out of her mouth was startled and he realized following the direction she was staring their audience had already arrived. Sam was leaning back against the door, effectively blocking anyone from coming out of the bar that way. He had a beer dangling from one hand and another bottle pressed against his lips.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

She nodded but her eyes stayed focused on Sam. Dean was okay with that, he was more than okay with that. Except he found himself imaging how it would feel to press his knife between the soft mounds of her breasts, wondered what she would sound like if it was pain not pleasure pulling gasps from her painted lips.

He bit down on her neck, then soothed it with a gentle kiss, “you know he's jealous.” Dean whispered his hands moving up to cup her breasts, “He wants to be where you are, wants to be the one I'm taking home, the one that I'm going to make cum until you can't see straight.”

She made a soft noise and he took it for encouragement.

“We can go somewhere more private if you want, somewhere with just the three of us, no one has to know what we do. I bet you've thought about it, wondered what it'd be like to have two men worshiping you, doing anything to make you feel good, I bet we could give you the best night of your life, and you'd never forget it.”

She might have been drunk, or more wild then he originally gave her credit for because she whispered “please.”

It was the sweetest please he thought he'd ever heard. Next to the ones from Sam when he was desperate and needed Dean to take care of him.

He smirked at Sam opening the driver's side door and letting the girl crawl into the middle. He wasn't going to tell her that there wasn't going to be room for all three of them in the front seat, she'd figure it out soon enough.

Sam came to the car moving slowly he leaned into the open door and dropped the beer between Dean's spread thighs pressing the cold bottle hard against Dean's crotch. Sam ran his hand down the bottle like he was stroking Dean not a random beer. His hand was cool when he pulled it away from the bottle and wrapped it around Dean's neck squeezing just hard enough to make Dean's cock throb. Sam kissed him not even looking at the girl, before he walked around and jerked open the passenger side door.

Somehow without a word Sam had her maneuvered into place where she was spread across their laps, Her mouth found it's way to Dean's cock. Dean could tell by the soft hitches in her breath that Sam had worked her pants off his thick, skilled fingers were working in her.

“Taste,” Sam whispered and Dean let his lips part for him to push two fingers past them, filling Dean's mouth with the taste of her over the taste of Sam's skin. He sucked hard taking everything Sam had to share with him.

The drive was almost too long, instead of going to a motel Dean turned down an over grown driveway to a house that he had thought might make a good place for their particular type of fun.

She didn't seem to notice the boards on the windows on the way the porch creaked when Sam carried her through the front door.

She didn't seem to notice much of anything but the way she was kissing his brother had Dean ready to rip her head off. He didn't know how it was possible for him to feel so much jealousy over something he knew was his and his alone but he did.

It wasn't until Dean pulled out the rope that she got the hint something wasn't okay. Dean thought Sam might back out but his brother just watched while he secured her to the bed. Dean let his eyes flood black and waited for Sam to say something, for sam to try to stop him. He kept expecting a reappearance of the kid that wanted to save everyone. Instead Sam had a knife in his hand and a smirk on his lips.

“I need that,” Dean said holding out his hand for the knife.

“and here, I thought I was all you needed,” Sam said stepping past Dean's outstretched arm close enough to press against Dean everywhere at once. He dragged the knife across Dean's neck, Dean felt the skin break in a smooth even line. In a brief heartbeat later his lips were on Dean's neck chasing the bead of blood where it rolled down his chest.

“Fuck Sammy,” Dean groaned.

“After,” Sam promised, “just tell me what you want from me.”

Dean took the knife, “get on the bed, hold her still. ” Sam moved managed to sit beside her and pull her up so she was leaned back against the solid wall of his chest. The girl screamed when Dean moved toward her with it, but she was silenced easily by Sam's hand across her mouth. He pulled her back against his chest, whispered some stupid bullshit how it was all going to be okay, and kissed the top of her head when Dean made the first cut. The one that sliced through her shirt, letting it fall open to his hungry gaze. “Eyes on me Sammy, let me show you how demons are made.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was flying high, adrenaline and alcohol and the itch to hurt someone was momentarily scratched.

On some level, where he remained Dean Winchester, Hunter of all Evil Son's of bitches. He knew he had permanently and completely crossed the line. The flakes of blood drying on his hands wasn't some monster, it was just some random girl, a human who got a little too close to them.

The blood on his brother's lips, wasn't just from some demon. It was from Dean's veins. And Dean had lived to tell the tale, though there really wasn't anyone he wanted to share that story with.

The girl lay between them, glass eyes stared unseeing at a nicotine stained ceiling. Dean felt better than he had in a long time. Sam's hands were roaming up and down the girls stomach, but it was Dean he was looking at. His eyes were glittering with something like mischief, and Dean found himself captivate by them. Felt like he was drowning in inky depths.

“Sammy,” he whispered the word like a prayer, reaching over the cooling body to drag his brother to him. Sam went easily sliding his sticky hand over Deans skin. It felt like he was on fire. Burning almost feverish and Dean wasn't too far gone to not feel the prickle of concern.

It was easy to forget about it when Sam left the bed and grabbed Dean's hand. He pushed Dean toward the other bedroom. He turned back long enough to throw a sheet over the cooling body. Something like respect in the way he tucked the sheets around her, it was ridiculous but it was such a Sam thing to do Dean couldn't help but smile at him. The girl was forgotten completely when Sam joined him in the bedroom and pushed Dean back against the headboard. He crawled over the top of Dean, suffocating weight holding him down while Sam rocked his hips just slightly just enough for Dean to really want to move on to the next part of the plan; the part that involved his little brother naked and writhing on the dust covered sheets beneath him.

“So pretty covered in blood,” Dean whispered rolling them so Sam was underneath him. He saw the want to fight in Sam's eyes, but he didn't just pulled Dean down and kissed him roughly.

“Shut up,” Sam whispered when he finally let their lips part.

Dean flipped them so he was above Sam looking down at his entire world. “I guess I could do something better with my mouth.” He kissed him again, “Roll over Bitch.”

Sam went easily and Dean rolled his eyes at the way he rocked his hips down into the mattress. He grabbed the waist band of his brother's jeans and started working them down over his hips, “I swear if I didn't know better I'd think you want something in your ass.”

Sam didn't speak but the soft gasp of breath was all the answer Dean really needed.

When he had Sam laid bare in front of him he leaned over his body to kiss the back of his neck. Dean's hand gripped the firm globe of his ass and he squeezed letting his fingertip press against the rim of his ass, “This is mine,” Dean growled low and possessive, “I'm gonna make sure you never forget that.”

Dean dragged Sam up onto his knees. One hand on his neck kept him face down on the bed. “So good for me,” Dean whispered, “can't believe you let me do this.”

“If you don't hurry up I'm going to make you do it.” Sam groaned his hips rolling slightly up against Dean, just enough to remind him even if he thought he was in control it was only until Sam decided to take that control away from him.

Dean moved down easily, let his hand skim the well defined muscles of his brother's back before spreading his cheeks apart. Dean pretended he didn't notice the way Sam turned his face away, the way he tried to hide the pink blush.

“Fucking hell,” Dean growled pressing his thumbs harder into that space opening him up a little more to Dean's gaze, “you fuck like a god damn porn star, but the second I have you on your knees you start blushing like a fucking virgin?”

Sam didn't answer, of course Dean knew he wasn't being fair, because the second the words were out of his mouth he pushed his tongue straight into that ring of tight muscle as far as he could force it. Sam's argument, if he had ever intended to make one was lost in a surprised moan.

“That's it baby,” dean whispered pulling back, “I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

he licked back across the rim, his tongue flat and smooth. He gave up on talking for a while saying everything he needed to say with his lips and tongue and hands. He dragged every gasp and moan and whimper he could get from Sam until he felt his brother pushing back against the seeking of his tongue.

Dean pulled back just a little and pushed one spit slick finger into his brother. Sam pushed back taking it all the way into him a lot quicker than Dean intended. A second finger followed and Dean let his tongue lap at the stretched rim just a little while Sam fucked himself on Dean's fingers.

“Just like that baby,” Dean whispered, “could watch this all night.”

“Dean,” Sam's voice came out soft and wrecked sounding, “come on man, stop teasing.”

The idea hit him all at once as both absurd and exactly right. He didn't want to stop teasing, didn't want to just stick his dick into the willing body beneath him, though Sam wouldn't have said a word if he did exactly that. He didn't want to just use him.

He wanted the connection. Wanted to feel Sam fall apart beneath him slow and easy, didn't want to race to the finish line. What he wanted, in the most pure sense of the word was to show him how much he meant. The thought should have stopped him cold, he wasn't exactly human, and they weren't exactly running high on the warm fuzzy feelings, but what he was feeling was all consuming and the most powerful form of love he'd ever felt. Like it could consume him, burn him alive from the inside out and he'd let it happily.

“Not going to fuck you Sammy,” he whispered, “not going to pound your pretty little ass through the mattress.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Sam said then moaned when Dean rubbed his finger's intentionally hard against his prostate.

“Shh,” Dean whispered leaning over him to kiss the back of his neck again, “don't worry baby, you're still going to get my cock, but nice and slow the way I want to give you it.”

He went back to licking slow and easy, kept going until Sam was breathless and moaning into the pillow. Dean's fingers stayed where they were, buried in the tight ring of muscle.

It wasn't long before he had to feel it for himself, he was so hard it almost hurt, and Sam was right there willing and eager.

Dean moved so he was spread over his back, slipped his cock snug against Sam and rubbed slowly feeling his cock drag thick and heavy between his brother's cheeks. He reached between them and lined himself up letting just the tip press against the rim.

“I love you,” Dean whispered as he pushed forward, whatever answer Sam may have given was lost in the long screaming moan that he let out.

Dean waited while Sam dropped his head, and breathed through the stretch of being breached. “That's it baby,” Dean whispered stroking down his waist in a movement that was meant to be comfort. Dean had some experience with moving people where he wanted them and getting Sam to roll with him was actually pretty damn easy. It was two seconds before he was on his side, cock still buried to the hilt inside Sam. And his hand between his legs stroking the hard length slow and easy.

“Feel so good,” Dean whispered not expecting an answer.

Sam rocked his hips back taking Dean in a fraction of an inch deeper. Dean shifted slightly and then urged Sam's legs apart, got him half way onto his back, his leg slung over Dean's leg so they were pressed as tightly together as they could get. Not a position for deep fucking, and definitely not one for hard or fast, but for the slow rolls of his hips up into his lover, and for being able to twist just enough to stare half down at him while rocking slow and easy and deep Dean thought it was perfect. Dean twisted just enough to press his lips against Sam's let him taste and feel and explore in a slow gentle kiss that was completely out of place with the way Sam's eyes were still black out void.

“Love you,” Dean whispered again, “never letting you get away from me.”

“Love you to,” Sam said, and he smiled let his hips roll back against Dean. They lay still and quiet just breathing against each other. Dean needed something, but he didn't know what, he needed to make sure Sam understood that he meant it, nothing else, not the black eyes or the hell he'd been through, or the world burning outside, none of it mattered, the only thing that he cared about, the only thing he would ever care about was Sam.

At some point he realize most of the shit he had no intention of ever saying out loud was spilling out of his mouth while he was rocking up into the welcoming body. Not only was it all spilling unchecked from his mouth but Sam was taking in every word, his eyes locked with Dean's and the softest sweetest smile on his lips.

Dean's hand stroked a lazy rhythm on his brother's cock, smearing it sticky wet with precum. In some part of his mind where his sanity still lingered he wondered how he had come to this. How he'd fallen so far that the greatest place he'd ever been, the happiest he could ever remember feeling, was making slow love to his little brother. It was better than anything he'd had before and he wondered why they'd waited so long, why they'd wasted years together not even realizing they were made to fit together, to fill each other in ways no one else ever could.

Sam whispered his name, his voice broken and soft and for just a minute Dean felt that last dreg of his humanity flare awake, protective, and terrified and he lay still, in shock of where he was and what he was doing. “Shh,” Sam whispered, “You're thinking too loud,” he pushed back against Dean, the sweet tight gripping pressure dragged a soft moan from his lips.

Sam smiled at him pulled him into a kiss that was painfully gentle then he pulled back and rolled his shoulders slightly away from Dean, turned his head and spit into the palm of his hand.

“That's nice Sammy,” Dean whispered teasing while he leaned down to press a kiss into the side of his neck.

“Get's the job done,” Sam said, his words fell into a moan when he felt Dean's rough stubble rubbed against his neck, so Dean repeated it to hear that delicious sound again. The hand Dean had on his cock was pushed out of the way and Dean rested his hand on Sam's when Sam took over, moving a lot faster and rougher than Dean had been.

“In a hurry baby?” Dean asked pushing his cock back into the base.

“No,” Sam said, but the way he moved between his hand and Dean's cock made it obvious he was close and was chasing his own pleasure.

“Don't cum yet,” Dean whispered and felt the shudder go through his body, felt the way Sam tensed beneath him his mouth falling open. Dean almost smirked, leave it to Sam to do the exact opposite of what he was told. When Sam's eyes opened the color was lost in them, a black void stare up at Dean and he felt like he could drown in the inky depths.

Sam gave him an almost smug smirk, Dean let his hand trail down his brother's stomach, expecting to encounter cooling cum, but the skin was soft and dry stretched taunt over miles of well sculpted muscles.

“How the hell did you not cum?” Dean whispered.

Sam shrugged, “I don't know.” he answered softly but there was some cousin of pride playing across his face. Dean wasn't sure what to think of Sam shuddering around him, but still managing to stop just short of cumming, just because Dean told him to.

“So good for me baby,” Dean said again rolling his hips up thrusting deep and slow into him before pulling back just enough to do it again.

In another life, maybe they wouldn't be okay with this, but Dean wants to forget about all the reasons they shouldn't because in this one, in this world, it just doesn't matter. Sam's with him, Sam's the tight friction on his cock, Sam's the taste on his lips, Sam's the warmth against his chest, and the smell of home hidden under the metallic notes of the blood drying in the other room. Sam is everything. And more importantly Sam is his. Completely, stripped bare and taking Dean in like he wants to be exactly where he is. And Dean just wants it to last forever, without thinking about the people they had been before the deal.

Time is meaningless for them. Measurable only in the sound of their breathing, the synced rhythm of their heart beats, and the occasional grunts and moans, and gasps of their lovemaking.

Dean didn't know how long they'd been together.

At some point Sam had whispered something, his voice soft and fucked out and Dean's orgasm caught him completely by surprise. He came down from it just as Sam tensed and arched against him, taking Dean in as far as he could when his own orgasm hit.

They lay together for a while after that, not bothering with clothes or clean up. Dean pretended to be sleeping, but he wasn't, he was laying next to his reason for existing, feeling the quiet glow of knowing that he was going to belong to Sam for the rest of his life. That he would do anything Sam asked him to. He couldn't imagine Sam asking anything from him he wouldn't be happy to give.

He had always known he loved his brother, even before, when he was human and willing to die so Sam could live, now though, he knew it was more than that, he belonged to Sam, Sam thought they were equal and that was good, but Dean knew better. Sam was his everything.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, and he was ready to let them all flood out, ready to lay down his life to Sam to do whatever he wanted, to make all the promises. It was there, and he held it back by letting his hands roam freely over the skin he wanted to worship. Let his lips trial across Sam's if they didn't speak, Sam couldn't know how lost Dean was to him.

Each caress, and kiss, and brush of sweat sickened skin was an “I love you” “i need you,” “stay with me” but the words were unspoken.

The blue pre-dawn light was breaking through the windows when Sam's cell phone rang. Dean realized almost immediately that he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard it.

Sam dug through his jeans and pulled it out. He took a pained look between the phone and Dean, hit the button to answer the phone and closed his eyes.

Dean sat up on the bed, feeling suddenly on high alert something was wrong.

“Hi Bobby,” Sam said, his voice strained and filled with obviously fake cheerfulness, “what's up?”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Dean watched in silence while Sam took the call. His eyes on the pile of their clothes like he really wanted to get dressed. Dean ran his hand down his spine and hoped to ease whatever thoughts were troubling him. Sam shrugged off his touch and stood up walking away from him with the phone still pressed to his ear.

Maybe he should have been paying attention to what Sam was saying,, instead his attention was caught by the wet smear in the coarse hair at the top of Sam's thigh. Sam turned toward him and Dean looked up to see the confused puppy look on his face.

He didn't ask what Dean was doing, but dean could practically hear the question in his brother's eyes.

He dropped a pillow on the floor beneath his feet and pointed to it. Hoping that Sam would just go with his idea. When he sank down onto his knees on it Dean smiled at him and ran a hand through his sex tangled hair. “Stay there,” he whispered moving around Sam. Sam twisted to follow him with his eyes, ut that was okay, Dean went down behind him and pushed hard between Sam's shoulder's forcing him to lean forward onto the bed.

Dean was almost impressed that Sam was managing to carry on a conversation like nothing was happening. He pushed Sam's legs farther apart, then pushed his finger into Sam. Dean felt the hard throb of his cock hardening at the feel of how wet and soft his brother was inside. Sam's eyes fluttered closed and he started chewing on his bottom lip, but he didn't make a sound.

Dean almost felt like it was a challenge.

His mouth replaced his finger and he tasted his own come where it was leaking out of Sam. Dean pressed his tongue in deeper. Forcing it as far past the tight rim as he could get it. Sam finally got off the phone and Dean pulled back to smirk at him, “thought you were going to talk all day.”

“We need to go,” Sam said dropping the phone onto the mattress, “there's a case.”

Dean felt a hysterical laugh bubble past his lips, “you're joking right.”

“Dean,” Sam was going to argue his voice was soft and patient like Dean was the one being stupid.

“Sam, there's a dead girl cooling in the other room, your pretty little ass is dripping with my cum, my eyes are permanently midnight, and you're not too damn far off, and you want to go see Bobby? No, absolutely not, that's suicide.”

“We have to.”

“Says who?” Dean asked, he leaned over Sam pushing his swollen cock into his spit slick rim without warning.

There was a soft surprised sound from Sam, but he relaxed into it almost immediately his body going rag doll limp on the ancient bed while Dean lazily thrust into him.

“Dean, it's Bobby, he asked for our help.” Sam said and it was infuriating for him to be trying to talk about it while Dean was trying to distract him, the best way that Dean knew how.

“He can call someone else,” Dean said, his hand seeking out his brother's throat and wrapping around it, pulling him backward till his back arched downward prettily. Sam's breath came out in hard little bursts that made dean want to squeeze a little harder, just to see what he would do.

It was dirty and hot having Sam beneath him so willing to let Dean do anything he wanted, even if what Dean wanted was to choke him half to unconsciousness while pounding rough and deep and as hard as he could into him.

It was the farthest from how they'd spent the night that Dean could imagine but it felt necessary like he was forcing Sam to listen through him through each hard jerk of his hips. It was over quickly and they had to get moving, had to make sure they didn't leave any traces behind when they left.

Sam was already dressed by the time Dean came back into the room.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I already told you,” Sam said.

“No, we talked about this, we're not going it's suicide.”

Sam shrugged, “maybe.”

“What you think he's just going to understand? Look the other way?” Dean closed his eyes, “look, I get it, believe me I get it, he's practically family, but Sammy you got to believe me this isn't something that he's going to understand, and it's definitely something that he's going to look the other way on.”

Sam didn't answer and Dean could see that he wouldn't be able to change his brother's mind.

Dean grabbed his arm, stopping him on his way out the door, “Sam, what are you going to do if you can't get what you need while we're there?”

“I'll figure it out.” Sam said, his voice taking on the stubborn edge that told Dean he might as well be arguing with a wall.

He took his time checking the place over and wiping down any fingerprints they may have left behind. He left the girl where she lay, felt nothing particularly toward her one way or the other, he did wonder how Sam felt about her.

Sam was waiting at the car, leaning against the metal looking out somewhere in the distance. Like he was thinking. He didn't know where he was going next, but as long as he had the keys Sam was just going to have to shut up and ride.

 


	9. Chapter 9

The highway twisted out in front of him. The black ash snake that ran from one end of the country to the other winding, splitting and shifting with each mile. The entire continent is connected by the same vein. Sometimes it looks different but every road that can be taken is connected. Dean had never been more aware of those connections than he was trying to figure out where he was going to go next.

It was easy, they needed a place where they could find someone with black eyes, they needed a place they could lay low, and they needed a place that wouldn't draw attention to them.

Sam was quiet while Dean drove, eyes turned out to the horizon. Dean started to ask what he was thinking, but lately more and more he didn't want to know. Dean had an excuse, Dean was twisted and evil, but Sam was only with him because he had to be. Dean found himself half afraid that at some point Sam would remember they killed things like Dean and then he would finally do the job.

It wasn't like he didn't trust his brother, it was just that eventually he knew that Sam would remember he was better than this, better than the blood and the sex and the violence and this sick twisted thing between them, and when that happened? Dean didn't know what would happen between them.

Instead of letting the half formed thoughts and worries plague him he focused on the road and turned up the music. He found himself instead thinking about the pull his brother had picked up, the way that he radiated power and sex.

He wondered if Sam was even aware of it. Deal also found himself wondering if Sam would blame that weird magnetism for what was going on between them. He didn't know for sure.

The road they were on seemed to go on forever, Dean didn't realize that he'd gotten turned around until he saw a sign for Sioux City.

He pulled over in the next gas station, Sam watched him get out of the car without asking where he was going. Dean knew the store, they'd stopped there at least a dozen times over the years to fill up after leaving bobby's which only left the question of how the hell he had ended up driving them within twenty miles of the hunter's house without realizing where he was going.

Sam got out of the car, “Get back in Dean.” He said softly, “we need to get going.”

“Yeah, I'll be right there,” Dean said, fighting against the pull to do what his brother said. He needed something, he had to have a reason for stopping. He just didn't remember what it was. He opened the door, and slid into the driver's seat. The engine was already running. It was almost like he lost a minute, before he realized something was wrong for a second time the impala's wheels were crunching loudly over the loose gravel of Bobby's drive way and Sam was sitting tense beside him, his eyes darting between Dean and the house. It almost felt like a veil was lifted off of him, as where they were dawned on him, with it came the knowledge of how they must have gotten there.

“What the hell were you thinking,” he hissed at his brother, but Sam was already reaching for the door.

“He can help us,” Sam said softly, “i know you don't believe it, but he's our friend, he just wants us to work a case.”

“Sure,” Dean said, “And I'm going to marry a billionaire supermodel.”

Sam shrugged and walked toward the house, the place made his skin crawl, it was loaded with warding, he couldn't feel them, it wasn't anything like that, he just knew they were there and that he was walking into a death trap with Sam jerking his chain making him fall in line. It pissed him off. But he couldn't do anything now they were here to draw attention to the fact they weren't what they'd always been.

It wouldn't be lying to small town cops, this was bobby, and he could always see through their bullshit, that alone scared the hell out of Dean. It didn't seem to bother Sam though.

The door opened on creaking hinges.

“Bout time you boys got here, “ Bobby said smiling from the porch.

“Got here as fast as we could.” Sam said, Dean saw the slight tremble in his hand when he rested it on the top of the car.

It was worse than not good. If Sam was already showing signs of withdrawal it meant that he'd burned through whatever he'd taken from dean trying to keep them moving in the right direction and keeping dean unaware of the trip. It also meant that he'd cut down their time from maybe a week or two down to hours before he started jonesing hard.

“No reason to stand out here all day,” Bobby said breaking the silence, “come inside, I've got a few calls to make, then I can give you all the details.”

The house was the way that he remembered it, Dean checked the ceiling careful to walk around the trap in the middle of the floor. Sam walked through the middle of it like it didn't even bother him, and for a second he was almost jealous. One wrong step and Dean would end up trapped their entire cover blown, and it was like Sam wasn't even thinking about it.

“So you found her?” Sam said quietly, for a minute Dean didn't know who his brother was talking about and then the old hunter smiled.

“Oh yeah, apparently she was looking for you as hard as you were looking for her.”

“Where is she?” Sam asked his eyes on the floor like he was trying to keep from giving away some secret.

“downstairs in the basement.” He said, “but I don't think you should go down there, the things she's saying, about you, about Dean, I think it's best if you let me deal with her.”

“She helped me save him,” Sam said, “I didn't think she had it in her.” he smiled, “but she was right.”

“Just because she wasn't lying, doesn't mean she wasn't playing you,” bobby said, “why don't you boys have a beer, take a seat and tell me what you've been up to since you left here.”

Dean took the beer knowing if he hesitated to drink it his cover would be blown, that he could pretend all day but when smoke started hissing from his skin there wouldn't be any denying that. He lifted the beer to his lips and tilted it like he was taking a drink, he stopped just before the sloshing liquid could hit his lips and swallowed air.

Bobby looked away from him, and Dean was careful not to let go of the relieved sigh that he felt all the way through him. Sam moved toward the basement door and Dean followed him because he was half terrified of what would happen if Sam got out of his sight or if they somehow tipped off the already suspicious hunter.

He told himself that there was no way that Bobby knew, that they'd been careful not to get caught, and most of the time they went after demon's people that wouldn't be missed. He grabbed Sam's arm when he was at the door at the top of the stairs. “who is so damn important that you forced me to drive half way across the country? What if he finds out?”

“He won't.” Sam whispered his eyes shifted to the door, for the moment at least they were alone. He grabbed Dean's jaw and ran a finger across his cheek, “trust me.” Sam kissed him lightly but moved before Dean could even react to it.

The basement was dark, Sam walked across the floor like a man on a mission. The door to the panic room opened easily. The room was empty.

“What you didn't think I'd let him shove me in there?” An unfamiliar voice asked from behind them. Dean turned around on high alert ready to start swinging if she posed a threat. Her eyes were as dark as her hair and she had a twisted smirk on her lips, “come on Sam, I'm smarter than that.”

Dean saw the smile on his brother's face, before it melted away, “where the hell were you?” He asked, “I called you, I needed you.”

“I was laying low,” she said, “like we agreed I would, there are people that want my head, and yours,” she added. “so yeah, I'm sorry I didn't answer but I had to make sure we got away clean and I couldn't do that and baby sit you and your demonic brother.”

The body was different, but Dean was pretty sure he recognized the demon filling it.

“Ruby?” he asked surprised the bitch was still around, “What are you doing here?” Dean asked the question gnawing at him more than anything, along with the fact that she didn't seem to be particularly trapped, which lead to a completely different question, “and why hasn't Bobby ganked you yet?”

“Because we're on the same team dumb ass,” she said irritated, “the dragged-your-sorry-ass-out-of-hell-team, a thank you would be nice.”

She moved quick toward Sam, “So, you made it out alive.” She stood an awkward half step in front of him. Like she was waiting for something from him.

“Yeah,” he said, there was something icy in the words.

“Look, you're pissed, I get it, I kind of panicked when everything went down, but the reason that I'm here, is to help you, same as before same as always, I'll make it up to you, Sam I swear.”

“Well,” Dean said softly pulling a knife out of his pocket, “we can arrange that, you do have something we need.”

She looked between him and the knife, it took a second but he saw the light go on when she got it. She looked back up to the stairs, “you sure you want to do this here baby?” She asked. The word grated on Dean's nerves. He wanted to bury the knife in her, even if it wouldn't kill her, Sam was his and she needed to keep her hands off of him.

“Dean,” Sam said his name in a quiet warning, “relax.”

Dean was too damn mad to relax, “no,” he said, “this bitch did this to you, and then she fucking abandoned you to whatever the hell happened after we got out of there, and now she's crawling back with more lies and promises, and I won't let her.”

Sam looked at him, a mix of concern and annoyance, “Dean chill.” he said, the words fucking vibrated through Dean and he hated that he could feel his own anger melting away. That his brother was using some fucking demon Jedi mind trick on him and he knew it and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

“What were you doing down here?” Sam asked her.

She shrugged, “never know when hunter's are going to drop by. We thought I'd be safer here.”

Dean felt the surge of hatred toward her all over again. Inside where no one but Sam could hear him he thought _Bitch you're not safe._ Sam gave him a reproachful look and he shrugged. It wasn't like Sam didn't know how he felt about her. She'd lied to them, promised time and time again that she could save him, and had failed to carry through on that promise. One way or another he was going ot make her pay for that, and for the fact it was her fucking fault Sam was being ridden by an addiction that he knew the person his brother had been would never have agreed to. It didn't matter what Sam said one way or another Dean was going to make her pay.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demonic threesome ahead.  
> I no longer have a clue where this story is going.   
> ...Wait, I never had a clue where this story was going to begin with, I mean the literal purpose was Wincest Serial Killer Smut. 
> 
> Everything is going according to plan then. Carry on.

Upstairs Dean held his breath waiting for Bobby to say something to them wen they walked out of the basement with Ruby between them. Instead he was on the phone looked up with a half shrug and pulled a news paper off a stack. He shoved it toward Sam, and Sam took it without saying anything. He skimmed it pretty quick then said, “We'll take care of it.”

Dean followed his brother out half expecting for Bobby to try to stop them. He expected for him to at least say something about them walking out of there with Ruby between them, but whatever he was doing on the phone seemed to have his complete focus.

“you boys be careful,” bobby called to them just before the door closed behind them.

Dean could have sagged against it in relief. If there was anyone that Dean didn't want finding out about what they were doing it was Bobby, he'd been like family, and he was good enough that Dean didn't want the older hunter after them.

Dean followed them to the car, revving the engine while looking back at the house, “That was stupid,” he said, “he could have found out.”

“You really think he doesn't already know something's going on? You think he didn't figure out something was wrong the second we didn't come back here first?”

Dean didn't have an answer, “Sam, he's a hunter.”

“He's family.”

“Right, you just keep telling yourself that, and when he puts a bullet in you,” It was a stupid risk and Dean was more than a little pissed he couldn't make Sam see that. He dropped it into drive and couldn't get out of the driveway fast enough. It was on the highway that he finally asked, “so what's the case?”

“Looks like just a ghost.”

“Great,” He said, “which way,”

“South East, it's in Georgia.”

There were a lot of reasons he didn't want to go to Georgia, “you sure, you don't want to hit Vegas instead?” He asked.

“I'm sure.” Sam said, “we've got a case we should work it.”

“Because Bobby said so?” Dean asked.

Sam didn't answer twisting away from him to stare out the window. Dean did the best he could to ignore the bitch in the backseat. She seemed content to just ride, which honestly pissed Dean off as much as anything else. He let himself imagine what it'd be like taking her apart. How much he'd enjoy it when they got down to slicing into her.

Sam was still lying to himself. That she was going to be helpful or useful or whatever the hell Sam thought she was, it wouldn't be long though, before he realized that she had one use, the red stuff beneath her skin. It was an itch to bury his knife between her ribs and watch Sam drain her dry that had him shifting uncomfortably in the seat.

His cock was straining hard against the unforgiving teeth of his zipper just imagining it. He could see it too, just as clear as Day the way it would look with Sam's lips wrapped around her pale skin. How good it would look with her drained dry and left staring blankly at nothing while Dean shoved his brother to his knees.

He looked at Sam, the way that he was intentionally turning away, he didn't know what was going on in his head, what thoughts were driving his brother on, but Dean knew the look he was deep in thought about something.

He turned the radio up to keep from having to think too much. Just let the highway sing beneath his wheels. He decided to find a place to stop just as the sky was starting to darken. Sam let him get the room and Dean regretted instantly leaving them alone together, he hated the fact he didn't know what they were saying, he didn't know what was between them and it was making him more than a little pissed. It felt like Sam was hiding something from him, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly was making him feel that way.

When he got back Sam was sitting on the hood of the car, ruby was standing next to him her hand on the metal. He was going to cut her damn arm off for touching his car, like she had the right to. She was smiling at Sam, looking at him with her head tilted down, looking up at him through her lashes. The stupid seductive look made her look just innocent enough, just coy enough, he knew his brother was probably eating it up. He threw his brother the room key and Sam caught it in the air and slid off the car.

Dean went to the trunk to grab their stuff while Sam unlocked the door. Ruby started to follow Sam, “You want to ride with us, you get your ass over here and carry something.” She walked around the car to where he was standing and Dean grabbed her pressing a blade against her neck just hard enough to nick into that white column of skin, “you keep your fucking claws out of him, or I will kill you bitch.”

“Me?” She asked, “I'm here to help him, because Sam wants me here.”

“Right, and like I said before, I really don't think you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart, so what the hell are you getting out of this.”

“Sam,” She said softly, blinking before the words spilled out like she was deciding whether to tell him the truth or not, “you have to have felt it, the raw power he has, the things he can make us feel, the things he can make us do,” she shivered, “Demon's aren't suppose to care, tell me you don't care about him to.”

“He's my brother,” Dean said. That was all there was to say.

“right,” she said, “so that boner you have for him is totally brotherly?”

“Shut up,” he growled, she was twisting it somehow, “I'm not defending what we do to something like you,”

“Come on Dean, you're not this stupid, this is about power, his power over us.” She whispered, and pulled out of his grip, “Sam's waiting.”

Dean followed her, back inside, he was going to prove the bitch wrong, but first he just had to make Sam see that whatever he thought he needed her for he didn't. They could drain her dry and leave her behind like any of the other demon's they'd burned through.

The room was the same as any other, maybe it had a little strong floral air freshener smell but otherwise there was nothing notable about it, two beds, a TV and a stamp sized bathroom. For twenty-nine bucks it wasn't' a bad deal.

Sam was already reaching for his laptop. Dean saw the way that his hand shook, saw that there were already dark circles forming under his eyes that Dean knew wasn't from the long car ride.

Dean took the laptop from him and put it on the floor by the bed, “it's time Sammy,” he whispered hoping that for once Sam wouldn't argue with him about it. He pulled out the knife, and handed it to Sam.

“Ruby,” Sam said his eyes locked with Dean, “I need you.” His eyes locked on her and watched her cross the room to him. She crawled onto the bed, kneeling behind Sam. One arm rested on his shoulder the other she held out for him to make the smallest of cuts across her forearm. It wasn't the ripping and tearing that Dean was use to, Sam rubbed his thumb over the wound he'd inflicted spreading the skin apart wider. Dean saw the grimace on her face but she didn't make a sound when Sam took her arm to his lips.

Sam's eyes closed and he leaned back against her, letting her slight frame take his weight. When she pulled her arm away he didn't resist. She winked at Dean before kissing Sam, the dark curtain of her hair falling around them. Dean watched her uninjured arm slide down his brother's stomach, a dark rage of possessiveness shot through him when her hand reached Sam's crotch, rubbing over the swelling bulge there. When Sam arched up into her touch Dean felt like coming unglued. She smiled at Sam, her dark eyes wide with mischief.

“Come on Dean,” She whispered, “got him all worked up for you.” She tugged open the button of Sam's jeans and Dean saw the elastic of his underwear, a couple inches of over tone muscle and he was so close to lost, so close to falling to his knees and dragging those jeans from his brother's hips. It was hot, that was the only word that came close to the way they looked together, Dean watched from where he stood when she slipped her hand beneath the white elastic waist band, the denim of his brother's jeans shifted and moved with her hand and he could tell she was rubbing and stroking the best she could with the limited space. She pulled her hand out and Dean saw the swollen head of Sam's cock over the waist band. He knew that velvet texture by heart, knew the taste of the clear fluid beading on the slit.

Sam's eyes were closed, one hand was holding the back of her head, keeping her kneeling over him, keeping her from pulling away while he kissed her. There was a whisper between them and Sam let her go, he shoved the jeans down around his thighs, his hand replaced hers. And Dean watched the slow way he jerked himself off. It took a second to realize Sam was looking at him as intently as Dean was looking at Sam.

“What do you want Dean?” Sam whispered his voice rough and sounded as desperate as Dean was feeling.

There weren't words for what all Dean wanted. He wanted it all. Dean felt the soft coaxing pull of his brother's own brand of magic. Felt the tug against the button of his own jeans. He let out the softest groan at the feeling, “yeah, okay just give me a second,” he muttered.

Stripping out of the jeans. He almost tripped over his own shoes trying to get them off. The first thing he wanted was more of Sam's skin. He stripped the pants the rest of the way off his brother and fell between his spread legs, wrapping his mouth around the tip of his cock.

Sam's gasp was the best thing that he'd ever heard. He wondered what the bitch would say if Dean just shoved his cock up his little brother's ass. Let her see who Sam really belonged to, and who was really in control. He pushed a finger into him, felt the hiss of breath from his brother that bordered on pain, it was a tight fit, not at all helped by the complete lack of lube, but Dean felt a vague sense of satisfaction. If Sam hadn't brought the bitch with them, then Dean wouldn't feel the need to stake his claim quite so literally.

Dean watched Sam strip the clothes off of Ruby and lift her so she straddled his face. She moaned her back arching and Dean knew that his brother was eating her out. His cock gave an interested twitch at the thought that he'd be able to taste the bitch on his brother's lips. The thought was lost to the focus of making Sam feel as good as possible to remind him that it was Dean who knew what he really needed not the demon that was just using him to get off.

Sometime later when Dean's jaw started to ache he stopped resting his head on his brother's thigh and watching Sam, he could tell by the way his hand was angled under her that Sam had at least two finger's inside her. Dean licked his fingers and pushed two back into his brother picking up the same rhythm on Sam that Sam was using on her. She was gasping out shuddering moans of Sam's, Dean twisted his finger's up searching out Sam's prostate, when he found it he continued matching the rhythm Sam set. Pretending he didn't notice when Sam started moving faster, urging dean to press harder and deeper against the small bundle of nerves.

“Jesus wait a second,” Sam gasped some time later lifting her off of him and shoving her almost roughly onto the bed next to him. Dean pulled his fingers out immediately. Sam pushed her onto her back, pushing her legs up and open before he knelt back between her legs his knees underneath him and the pretty curve of his ass up in the air.

Dean pushed the tip of one finger back inside his brother and Sam pushed back against it. An invitation if Dean had ever seen one. He moved up onto the bed with them, positioning himself behind Sam and pulling him back onto Dean's cock.

Few things had given him the satisfaction of hearing the loud borderline scream his brother made when Dean filled him in one fluid movement.

Dean saw way her sex glazed eyes drifted toward him, a smile curved her lips.

Dean smirked down at her over Sam, pushing Sam back down toward her while rolling his hips slightly. _That's right bitch_ , he thought. It didn't matter if she didn't catch the words, she could read his satisfaction on his face when he gave over to the pleasure of pure uncomplicated sex.

It felt good, it didn't matter who or what or why, there was nothing like having his cock in a willing body that was pressing back and squirming to get him in deeper.

Dean grabbed the back of Sam's neck pressing him down like Dean actually had some control, “That's it Sammy,” he whispered, “show me how good you eat her pussy.”

Dean heard the moan from his brother and felt the way he pushed back up against Dean, fucking himself on Dean's cock. Dean pulled no punches, fucking his brother hard and fast and deep until Sam wasn't able to stay focused on anything but taking what Dean was giving him and trying not to cum.

Sam said his name, in a soft wrecked way that made Dean completely lose control. He pulled Sam hard against him and dug his nails into the muscle on Sam's waist and came deep inside him.

“Fuck Sammy,” Dean whispered when he regained the ability to speak.

Sam slipped off him and Dean got off the bed he went to go find something to clean them up with. By the time he got back Sam had moved them so Sam was on his back with her straddling him, her head thrown back in her pleasure. She met Dean's eyes in a smirk that was almost a challenge and rocked her hips down to draw out a moan from Sam.

It wasn't like Dean couldn't see what she was doing. She was trying to either piss him off or draw him in. She was pretty and she might have tried to help them before but he wasn't the man he had been and he really had no use for her.

Dean watched the point where their bodies met. He moved back to the bed and let himself see not the demon bitch riding his brother, but how pretty the body was, the long dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders, the perky tits, and smooth cream colored thighs, if he didn't hate her on principle he could see how he could easily enjoy fucking her. He stroked a hand down her stomach, going until his fingertips brushed against Sam's cock then pushed one finger into her next to his brother stretching her out a little more. He let his finger slip out with the next slow thrust from Sam and dragged it over her clit, rubbing just light enough that she could feel his touch.

Dean let his hands roam, felt the weight of her breast in his palm and teased her nipple with soft strokes of his thumb. He moved down the bed, encouraged Sam to open his legs with a soft touch on his thigh, and Dean settled in between Sam's legs. He leaned forward capturing a dusky pink nipple between his lips and sucking on it, their movements had slowed to almost nothing but slow undulations that made it easier for Dean to get them both where he wanted them. His lips trailed slowly lower, until his tongue could work it's way to her clit. She bucked against his mouth and harder own onto Sam. He pulled her off his brother and pushed her back so she straddled Sam's waist, there was a disappointed sound from both of them and it was almost what Dean was going for. He caught Sam's cock between his lips and slid as far down the length as he could go. He could taste her on his brother's dick. It was a lightening bolt of want that made him start getting hard all over again.

He pulled off and whispered, “Jesus Sammy, you didn't tell me she tasted so good.”

“You didn't ask,” Sam countered. It was true.

Dean guided them back to the position he wanted them in, Sam was sitting up against the head boards, and she was leaned back against his chest. One of Sam's hands was in her hair holding it out of the way while he kissed and bit into the soft column of her neck. Dean met his eyes just long enough to smile at him, before he leaned back in to run his tongue across the point their bodies met.

If he had realized how much he would enjoying eating out a girl while she rode Sam's cock they might have done it sooner. He heard her gasps and moans punctuated by Sam's soft words of encouragement. It didn't matter what he was saying, it was all bullshit anyways. Dean let him talk though, drank in the pleasure and the praise in his voice even if it wasn't directed at Dean himself.

It was a long time later that Dean heard the familiar sound of his brother on the brink of cumming. Smooth as silk Dean shoved a finger into him and felt the tight muscles fluttering around it. He almost didn't think, almost didn't realize what they were doing until Sam had already started to cum. Dean pulled the bitch off his brother and wrapped his mouth around his cock instead swallowing quickly as he could, feeling the warm smear of sticky fluid across his lips from where he wasn't quite fast enough.

When he was done Dean pulled off him, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He asked, “Last thing you need is to knock up this demon bitch.”

“Plan on keeping me around for a while then?” She asked smugly, like she didn't already know the answer. Dean shoved her back against sam hard and sealed his lips around the wet entrance to her pussy, licking as deep and as quick as he could trying to drag out anything his brother might have left behind.

Sam apparently didn't have anything to say about it, but Dean could see the way his hand roamed down her stomach resting low on it. He bit back into the side of her neck and Dean wondered if he was still trying to get at her blood through her skin, if he'd just given up on the knife all together.

Dean dragged her off the bed when he was sure he'd gotten every drop of his brother's cum out of her. “Get your fucking clothes on,” he muttered and crawled back up next to Sam, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. “'m going to sleep,” he muttered, “don't do anything else stupid until I wake up.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Dean couldn't believe the bitch was still alive, much less seemed like she was perfectly content to sit in the backseat and stare out the window while they flew down the highway. He couldn't believe that after everything that any time Sam had sliced into her, she hadn't shown fear or begged or anything, she just held still and smiled at him, the look a little too close to adoring for Dean's taste. She ran her fingers through his brother's hair and it made Dean want to cut her arm off.

Dean had been patient, waiting until Sam got bored with her before he suggested they do with Ruby what they'd done to the rest of the demon's Sam had torn through.

Sam had gone quiet, a little sullen and Dean didn't ask again for a while. But he read the look, and hated how hard his brother was for the black eyed bitch. They stopped in a backwater town in the middle of no where, and Dean had gone for a beer run.

The problem was when he got back, he lingered outside the door, checking for sounds through the thin door. He heard nothing but the soft sound of his brother's voice.

“You sure that's where she is.”

He didn't hear the response, Dean shoved open the door. Sam was sitting at the table leaning toward her and her hands nails her running down his wrists not scratching just, skimming against his skin. Dean wanted to slap the soft sappy smile off her face.

“What's going on?” Dean asked not sure he wanted to know.

“We found Lilith.” Sam said softly.

Ruby glared at Sam, “at least we know where she's probably going to be.”

“and you found out how?” Dean asked.

“I know some people, well not exactly people, but close enough,” she said smiling, “and they know some people, but the info's good. We have a solid lead.”

Dean nodded, “so what you're thinking is...”

“bleed the bitch dry,” Sam said with a wry smile, “string her up, and let you do whatever you want to her.”

Dean's hand itched to get around the white eyed bitches neck. He wanted to rip into her so fucking bad he couldn't stand it.

“one problem, she tends to take kids.” Dean said, “I know you get off on the whole torturing demon's thing, almost as much as you get off on fucking them, but dude, that's sick, even for us.” He waited for the argument, waited for the justification.

“We can force her out.” Sam said softly, looking down at the ground, “I mean it's not the best choice in the world, but we can drag her out of the kid into a different body.”

Dean stood for a second, trying to imagine how that would work, instead of getting an answer that didn't make his stomach roll dangerously he said, “so what, you're just going to pick some poor woman to shove her demonic ass into?”

“It's our best choice,” Sam said.

Dean wanted to throw him on the bed, the soft way he said, it the way his cheeks went a slightly pink tint, like he was still at least human enough to feel a little ashamed that he was suggesting they kidnap some random person and force a demon down their throat. Dean wanted to shove his cock so far between those pink lips he would choke on it.

“Get out,” Dean said grabbing her arm and shoving her toward the door roughly, “we need to talk about this without you here.”

“I'm in this with you.” she said, “I risked my life for this information.”

“You're risking your life by arguing with me. Get the hell out of here.” Dean shoved her out the door. And slammed it behind her. He could still hear her voice through it when he bolted the door. He turned back around to find Sam watching him. The calm, almost bored look on his brother's face had him almost as annoyed as the bitch's voice had.

“You're not seriously considering this?” Dean demanded.

“You already know I am.” Sam said, “if the idea hadn't come from her, you'd be right there with me.”

“Yeah, well it's not my fault you have terrible taste in women.” Dean said, “I mean I thought that when we picked her up that she wasn't going to be riding with us.”

“You thought we were going to kill her?” Sam asked, looking like he'd never even considered the idea.

“Yeah, that's kind of what we do. We gank evil son's of bitches and move on.”

“Dean.” Sam said his name softly like it hurt him to even push the words past his lips, “that's not what we do. Not anymore.”

“We do what we have to do,” Dean argued.

“You don't have to pretend to be what you were.” Sam whispered, “I don't care, I'm in this no matter what you do, but Ruby's off limits, she's mine, like you're mine.” He paused so long Dean didn't think he was going to say anything else, then said, “and after we kill Lilith, if you still want her dead, I won't stop you.”

Dean could hear the shake in his voice, and see how badly Sam wanted him to change his mind. Dean shrugged, “So you're perfectly okay with killing some kid just to get to Lilith.”

“No, I'm really not crazy about the kid thing, but better one kid who would be fucked up beyond saving anyways, than all the people she is going to hurt if we don't deal with her.”

“What about us?” Dean asked, “what about all the people we're going to hurt?”

Sam didn't answer him, but Dean could see the conflict playing across his face, how badly he wanted to deny it.

“It was one,” Sam said at last, “and she touched you.”

“Don't lie to yourself little brother,” Dean whispered moving close, forcing Sam to actually look at him. “She might have been the first, she won't be the last, the only way this thing goes is downhill. You can justify it anyway you want, but I was there, and so were you.”

“Shut up,” Sam said, his voice practically a growl. Dean felt the words choked off. But it was good. He wanted the reaction, wanted to make his brother see that they were both beyond saving. That no matter how good Sam thought he was. In the end his blade had been the one that Dean used to killed the girl.

He waited, not even trying to speak until Sam let him go. His brother's face falling to his hands like he couldn't stand to look at Dean.

“It's okay,” Dean said softly, “you did what you had to do. I'm just trying to make you see, this is who we are now. It's okay, you just have to accept it, and stop pretending that we're still trying to do the right thing.”

Dean swallowed nervously and hoped that Sam would actually listen to him.

“This isn't what I wanted,” Sam said at last, not looking at him, “I just wanted you back.”

“I known the feeling,” Dean agreed and moved close enough to brush the hair back off his brother's face, “I couldn't live with you dead.”

Sam nodded, his eyes falling closed.

“Look at me,” Dean whispered, “it doesn't matter, it's over, and we're here, and nothing will ever keep us apart again.”

Sam nodded, but didn't say anything.

“Sammy?” Dean whispered, “come on, talk to me.”

“I have to kill her.” Sam said at last, “because she took you from me. I don't care what else she's done, or will do, I don't care what she is, or how powerful. I had to live without you for months, you...” he stopped like the words were hard for him to find, “Dean you're a demon, because I wasn't fast enough to save you, because of her. So I'm going to kill her.”

“And the other bitch?” Dean asked.

Sam flinched slightly, “I don't know” He looked up his eyes pleading with Dean to understand, “she's important.”

“You love her?” Dean asked afraid of the answer that he would get.

“She's a demon.” Sam answered, which wasn't a denial.

“So am I,” Dean countered, his hand stroke down his brother's neck, feeling the rapid fire rhythm of his pulse, “you love me don'tcha baby?”

“That's different,” Sam whispered, leaning into the touch.

Dean was done with the argument, he pulled Sam to his feet, “stop thinking so damn much. I'll play nice until she gives me more of a reason not to.” He grinned, “besides, it's good to have a backup plan.”

It was good just to be able to wipe the look off Sam's face with a kiss, it was like watching a wall crumble when Dean pulled away and the stress there was replaced with something like hunger. Dean grabbed Sam's hand and guided it to his cock, “feel that?” He whispered, “that's going to be inside you just as soon as you get your clothes off.”

Sam moved only far enough away to pull off his jeans. Dean helped him strip the shirt over his head and grabbed his wrist before Sam could make it to the bed. “Turn around,” Dean ordered, “gonna do it right here.”

Sam turned toward the bed standing almost rigidly still. Dean spit on his fingers worked one very carefully into Sam. Dean put one hand on the small of his back and Sam leaned forward with the touch, bending over for him so smooth and pretty. “That's it baby,” Dean whispered, “just like that.”

The second he thought he had him stretched loose enough, Dean let his jeans fall to the floor and stepped out of them. He rubbed the head of his cock over the hole, “Hey Sammy,” he whispered.

Then waited for the questioning hum of sound from his brother before saying, “I guess this really does make you my bitch huh?” He eased forward Sam's laugh dissolved into a moan.

Sam pushed back against him and Dean was done talking for a little while. Focused entirely on the tight feel of Sam around his cock. Dean really didn't think he'd ever get enough of the little sounds that came from Sam when he was being fucked. The soft moans and whimpers and the way he pushed back like he just couldn't get enough of Dean in him was completely fucking addictive. Dean scratched down his back, watched the red lines rise under his skin, and heard Sam's sharp intake of breath

“You liked that?” He asked smirking letting his blunt nails scratch another set of matching lines on the other side. The only answer he got was the encouraging way Sam's back arched up into the touch slightly.

Sam moved so abruptly and Dean slipped out of him.

Sam twisted and guided Dean to the bed, Dean could have argued it, but when Sam straddled his lap and eased himself back down there wasn't anything left to complain about.

Dean wrapped his arms around his waist holding Sam steady and close while Sam took over setting a pace that was quick and sharp and enough to have Dean barely holding back. Sam grabbed the back of his head and dean let him move him where he wanted. The soft press of his brother's lips against his neck was in contrast to how fast and hard he was riding his cock.

Dean let him ride content to meet the rough thrusts with equally rough ones of his own, let Sam decide how he wanted it because he wanted nothing more than to enjoy watching the way he moved. It was good to not have to think beyond meeting the steady movements, he didn't think about where his hands roamed, but there was a lot of distance they covered, from the top of Sam's shoulders to the thick corded muscles of his thighs, there really wasn't any where Dean hadn't touched, or stroked or scratched faint marks into.

The only real warning he got before Sam came was a missed beat in the rhythm, then Sam stilled completely above him. Dean felt the waves of his orgasm sending squeezing pulses around Dean's cock. It wasn't until the tension started to drain from him that Dean shifted them, twisting so Sam landed on the bed, boneless and lax, Dean slipped back into him in a quick hard thrust that pulled out another strangled moan from his brother. It was over too quickly, Dean could have spent the rest of the night making sure Sam felt it in the morning, but he had shit to do.

He pulled pressed one last rough kiss against Sam's pliant lips, before slipping off the bed, “You sure you want to do this? I mean it's going to be a fucking shit storm if she finds out we're after her.”

Sam nodded, followed him and pressed Dean back against the door, he looked over Dean like he was trying to read the future on the map of Dean's skin. “She took you from me. You're mine, I'm going to kill her for that. You can come with me, or you can wait here, and I'll do what needs to be done.”

“You're not going anywhere without me.” Dean said, ending the argument there, “if you do this, I have to be there with you every step of the way.”

Sam smiled, a stupid soft love sick look, “thank you,” he whispered and Dean felt like they were probably going to regret it, but he let himself imagine for just a second that he could really get his knife into the bitch that had tried to separate him and Sam forever. He doubted she expected Sam to walk through the gates of hell to get him, but then, the bitch didn't know Sam. Dean knew, even if no one else ever did, that Sam was probably the scariest son of a bitch on the planet.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

There was something that Dean really liked about driving at night. Especially when they managed to avoid the interstate and found some two lane blacktop that rolled beneath the star littered sky without so much as another car to break up Dean's enjoyment of the road. He tried not to think about where they were going, but it was always right there in the back of his mind, begging him to look at it, and think about it, and examine exactly what it would mean. It wasn't that he didn't think Sam had the power to take the bitch down. Lilith, the first demon. What would it even mean if they could kill her? He didn't know, as far as he knew that meant that she was the one in charge, she was the one that held his contract she was the one other Demons in hell didn't even have the courage to think of out of fear their thoughts would draw her attention.

It was never clear what exactly they feared about Lilith. The name was thrown out as a threat, first by the Demon's that had tortured him, “just wait until Lilith gets her hands on you,” and then by him, to the people that he had in turn tortured, he doubted they knew Lilith any more than he did, except he did know her, he knew her from before when he was human and she was the one that was coming personally to drag him to hell. In hell itself though, she was a myth. A legend that passed from Demon to Demon through taunts and whispers.

He wondered if knowing she'd been there to personally collect on his contract made him special or not. If they killed her though, then what would happen? Would the entire system fall apart? Would the demons spend their time fighting for who got to be top dog? Or would everything go on pretty much the same. Dean let his eyes stray to Sam.

He wondered what it would be like if Sam took control. If he walked back into hell like he owned it, with Dean at his side, what could the world be like then? He didn't know, he couldn't imagine it would be worse, but somehow it didn't seem like it'd be better either. In some ways there was still a lot of good in his brother and he was doing a damn good job of trying to hide it, but Dean could always tell.

“You need to stop at the next gas station.” Ruby said leaning half way over the seat to make sure Dean heard her over the radio.

He hated her telling him what to do, but he didn't say anything, just nodded and turned the wheel toward the faded red Texaco sign. Trying to keep his frustration out of his face, he could tell that he failed, but when Sam looked at him, he snapped, “What?”

Sam didn't say anything just shook his head and pushed the door opening, pouring his too tall frame out of the car. Dean waited as long as he reasonably could without risking looking like a complete jackass before shoving the door open and following them into the store. He saw Sam standing next to the cooler looking at the fogged glass intently.

Dean walked up next to him, “see anything you want to drink or is it all crap?” He asked looking at the selection of off brand soda's the case next to it had a blown light, so everything in it was cast in shadow. Sam turned toward him, a hungry look passed momentarily over his face, “yeah.”

It wasn't even fair how hot he could be when he wanted. Dean bumped him with his shoulder, “later.” he reached for the handle of the cooler, and caught his reflection in the fogged up glass, his eyes were midnight black and he had a bruise across his neck. He hadn't even bothered to think how they would look. It should have made him feel a lot of things realizing that anyone that saw them together would know, even if they didn't _know_ exactly what was going on between them, just looking at them would be enough to make most people take a step back, to make them feel scared and a little uneasy. Dean wondered if they saw the mark would they think it was from a fight? Or would they just know instinctively and automatically that it was from Sam. That Dean was walking around with a neon sign on his neck that made it look like he was the one taking it.

He felt heat rising in his cheeks.

Sam looked at him for a minute, the soft brush of Sam's thoughts against his own had Dean feeling like his knees were about to go out from underneath him at the raw hunger in that touch. Sam's hand landed on the small of his back hidden by the bulk of his body, dexterous fingers followed the seam of Dean's jeans down until those fingers were pressing hard against him. “Of course they know.” Sam whispered his fingers rubbing into the denim, rubbing it against Dean. Making it hard for him to think.

Dean choked out his name and saw the smirk on Sam's face, felt heat rising beneath his skin.

“You know,” Sam whispered, “I've never seen a demon blush as much as you do.”

“Fuck you,” Dean growled, “Jesus Sam, we're in public.”

Sam made a soft sound, like he had no idea they were, his hand lingered for a second longer then Sam was walking away from him, leaving Dean practically panting into the cool air of the cooler. He wasn't sure what the hell that even was, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.

It wasn't until he finally reached into the cooler for a drink he didn't want anymore that he realized he hadn't seen Ruby since they walked in the store. He walked between the aisles eyes open for any sign of her between the shelves. But it was pretty clear she wasn't there. He was about to call Sam's attention to the fact that she was missing. When she showed up next to him.

“Where were you?” He asked, his eyes on Sam not her.

“Bathroom, why did you want to hold my hand?” She asked slipping past him, and going to lean against the checkout counter. She whispered something to Sam and he nodded pointing at the glass case of road food. Dean joined them dropping the soft drink on the counter, and grabbing a couple of the beef jerky sticks from the carton on the counter. He skimmed over the magazine rack and found what he wanted at the back tossing it on the counter, he pretended he didn't see the look Sam shot him when he paid. Dean didn't wait to see if they were following him when he headed back to the car.

Ruby climbed into the backseat, stretched out putting her head back against the glass. Dean looked over the seat and saw her digging into a grease stained brown paper bag. “Head south.” She said, “toward Texas, we're going to meet a friend there, and then we can go track down the bitch.”

“A friend? Do you even have friends?” Dean asked.

She shrugged, “only when it's convenient. Right now it's convenient, Why are you jealous?”

Dean turned back to the road, “so this friend, it's not an ambush, or anything like that?”

“Of course it's an ambush, the three of us against one, low rank minion of hell? Calling it an ambush is being generous. It's going to be a slaughter.” She smirked, looking more than a little excited by the idea. The smile didn't really reach her eyes though, and he remembered again that he couldn't trust the bitch.

Still it was a long drive, at some point Sam stretched across the seat, laying his head on Dean's lap and squeezed Dean's leg once, something that might have meant reassurance, or he might have done it just because it was there, Dean did notice how quickly he settled, his breaths becoming slower and it was nice to switch hands on the wheel and let his hand rest on the curve of Sam's waist. It was nice to be able to touch him where he wanted, when he wanted, just because he wanted.

Dean felt the soft flinch, and wondered what images were playing through his brother's imagination. He reached for the radio hitting the button and turning it to something softer, something that was a little more to Sam's taste. To make it easier for him to sleep.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Another day, another town whose name Dean would probably forget hours after he left. Sam was fidgeting, but Dean wasn't concerned about it. For once he was pretty sure his brother was just wired from nerves. It was weird that it made him happy to know between the two of them Sam didn't seem to be hitting withdrawal nearly as quickly as he had before. It also pissed him off that Ruby was helping keep his brother from shaking apart at the seams.

The place she pointed out as their meeting spot was an office building with a parking garage. Too small for public parking but two or three cars could park beneath it comfortably. Dean circled around it, saw that there was someone already there, standing almost completely hidden in the shadows.

Dean pulled the car into the garage, feeling like he was walking into a trap. There wasn't anything for sure to make him feel that way, there was just something wrong.

He had barely rolled to a stop when Sam was slipping out of the car, leaving the door open and Dean scrambling after him. The person on the other side of the room stood frozen where they were staring at Sam like she'd seen a ghost. Which Dean thought, maybe if you were a demon there were few things scarier than Sam with that murderous look in his eyes. Especially when Dean knew the kind of carnage that Sam must have left behind them in hell. Sam's hand raised and Dean watched the demon crumple to the ground. It took a few seconds for him to make sense of exactly what was happening, because Sam looked confused rather than in control. Then he realized that it wasn't in pain and it wasn't on the ground because Sam sent it there, it was bowing. The demon was kneeling in the middle of an oil stained floor.

“Get up,” Sam said, For the first time Dean didn't think there was compulsion in the order. It was something else, there was power in the words, but only in the way they were said. It was just Sam, telling a monster what to do. The demon stood, it's hands clasped together like it was afraid of moving them without permission, which was probably a good thing, considering what Sam might do to it if it ticked him off.

Dean didn't notice when Ruby got out of the car, but he did notice when she stepped up next to him. “What did I tell you, not every Demon wants to follow Lilith, you have power, you have followers, we're willing to do anything you ask.” She was including Dean in her speech, maybe not in word, but by standing next to him, it made it look like he was in agreement with her. Which he definitely would say if he was following anyone it would be Sam, over the white eyed bitch that killed him, but Dean didn't follow, not anyone. Sam knew better than to believe Dean was going to give up his position as big brother just because Sam got the lottery on psychic abilities.

It wasn't the time to argue it, not when they were so close to getting the information they needed. Sam wasn't interested in ruling hell, which seemed to be what Ruby was getting at, but Dean was all for using any advantage they had when it came to Lilith. If the demon's thought Sam was their new de facto leader, Dean wasn't going to be the one to argue while it was still an advantage he could press.

Sam pulled open the back door of the car, and ordered, “Get in.” The demon went. So silent and without question or hesitation.

Sam slammed the door behind it, “Not a word Dean.” He said, and Dean hadn't really planned on protesting anyways.

“I don't know, I think 'Your Majesty' has a nice ring to it. They might even give you a shiny hat.” It was meant to be taken as a joke, was meant to be light. But the look on Sam's face was something darker.

“You're not seriously considering this are you?” Dean asked surprised to see the look on his brother's face. Hell was hell, full of heat, and pain, and back stabbing fucking monsters. They ran on chaos and blood. He never wanted to step foot in there again, especially not since Sam had been the one to pull him out.

“I don't know, there's something to it Dean, imagine what we could accomplish with that kind of power.”

“Yeah, we could order a pizza, and a case of beer.” He said, then shook his head at even the thought “no, dude, I've had enough of hell for the rest of ever. Just no.” But there was a tick there, one moment of wild delight, that reminded him of how Sam marching through hell, the joy and the fear, and the way the second Dean had seen him he wanted to fall on his knees in front of him.

He remembered though, it hit like ice water, he remembered spending countless days being ripped down to bone and marrow. He couldn't go back there, he just couldn't, it didn't matter if Sam was right there beside him, he wouldn't be able to hide what they did to him. When Sam had saved him he had a blade in his hand, but before that, for years he'd had nothing, nothing but whatever they choose to do to him. He couldn't stop it, and if Sam only ever saw him with the blade, then he wouldn't have to know about the other years, the ones where he had nothing but his brother's name to keep him sane.

“Dean, breath.” Sam whispered, he felt his brother's hand wrapped around his arm holding him up, which was good because he felt like he was going to collapse without that weight to support him.

“It's okay,” Sam said again, Dean felt his other hand stroking down Dean's arm, to find and lock their fingers together. Dean didn't mean to squeeze so hard but he latched onto that point with everything that he had.

He felt the touch of Sam against his mind, almost a caress of thought. Dean retreated from it, like if Sam choose to pry he could even stop him, but he felt the withdrawal just as quick and as quiet as it had come.

“I'm sorry,” Sam whispered, “I just don't know what I can do to help you.”

Dean was still gasping for breath but he laughed,

Sam laughed, a relieved sound, “how did we never hear of demon's having panic attacks?””

From behind them Dean heard Ruby say, “you're like one of those little dogs that barks so much it scares itself.”

“I'm going to kill her,” Dean growled out, then turned around, “when this is over, we're going to have a nice long talk.”

“Yeah?” She asked in a mockery of sweetness, “when this is over, I'd love to hear anything you have to say. For now we have a bitch of a demon to kill.”

She slipped into the car and Dean grabbed Sam's arm to make him stay a minute longer, “remember, when Lilith is dead, that bitch is next on my list. So don't get too attached.”

Sam nodded, “just get in the car Dean.” He whispered, “I'll drive.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is so not okay.
> 
> It's weird writing a traumatized Demon!Dean but that's basically what I'm writing here. 
> 
> Basically I decided to give Demon!Dean and M.O. something that would be recognizable that he might not realize that he was doing. (For future drama.) Then I tried to figure out what Dean would do that would be like a calling card, and especially what he would do without realizing it. So the obvious answer must be Sam related. It's realizing what he's doing that sets off a flashback that pretty much fucks over his head.
> 
> He might be a Demon, but he's still Dean at the core. The piece that isn't broken is starting to shatter.

It wasn't hard to be flying high, not when the blade sang in his hand. Maybe singing wasn't the right word, but it felt right. Felt like he was made to cut into demons. The flash of silver was almost too civilized for the work he wanted to do. Some part of him wanted something more barbaric something stone, or wood. Hell even bone might be a good idea.

The screams weren't something that a human would have been capable of. The power in the voice, shook ancient faded pictures off walls. Sam was watching, but Dean didn't think that he was doing anything, not for Dean or for the Demon that he was cutting into, and it filled him with twisted pleasure. He wanted so badly for Sam to see him. See how good he was at what he did, see how screwed up he'd become.

There wasn't a rhyme or a reason to the torture he inflicted. Whatever felt good, he wasn't aiming for a specific reaction, wasn't aiming to figure out anything specific. Not yet. Dean knew he was the warm up act. He was just getting it ready, getting it's tongue nice and loose before Sam took over.

Not that Sam couldn't just force the answers out of it, not that it probably wouldn't have given them willingly. But how could they have known for sure? Dean wanted Sam to let him use the blade on Ruby. Wanted to carve the truth of what she wanted from his brother out of her ribs. Maybe even write their initials on her sternum. She'd probably live through it. Instead he took out his anger on the one that had come to them, willingly, bowing to Sam like he was a king. And that just pissed Dean off more. This was what he had died to avoid. This was what Sam had turned down, and taken a blade between his vertebra for. Dean's knife flicked the skin on the Demon right above where Sam never managed to scar. The magical healing wiped any trace that it had ever happened.

Except that's what lead them here. And Dean felt the hatred boiling under his own skin as he realized that there was a method to what he was doing, every mark that he could ever remember seeing on his brother was mapping itself in the demon's flesh through Dean's blade. Letting Dean remember every time that he'd ever failed, and ever let his brother down.

At that realization it became intention. It might have the better part of century between when he saw the injuries and when he was recreating them, but it turned out they were burned into his memory. It was worse, as he dragged the blade down the demon's face, it screamed so he did it again. A slightly shorter line above it. The next sound wasn't a scream, it wasn't anything just a hiss of pain, and a third followed. It was familiar.

His breath came out lightening hard paces. Werewolf. His brain supplied helpfully, but inside, beneath that, in the dark corners that were blood washed, and smelled like sulfur and pain, he saw him putting the exact same mark on countless souls as he twisted them. Three marks on the face, one cut through the spine, broken arm. He always moved slowly at first, and it was always repeated the same marks, the same blows, a habit that he never stopped to think about, but now over the images, the countless screaming, bleeding, writhing damned. He saw Sam.

Saw every failure that had led them to where they were. How many times had he recreated those images without realizing it.

Hell was suffocating, it was drowning in heat, and torn apart down to the fiber of his being. Hell didn't leave you just because you got out. He carried it with him.

In hell Sam didn't exist, outside the whispers of the Demon's who had first started breaking him, the ones that cut him, the ones that fucked him, it was Sam's name on their lips, their promise that his little brother would get the same treatment when they got their hands on him.

Sam wasn't coming, Dean let their threats wash over him. Sam didn't exist in hell. Sam was above them, untouchable by their taunts and their lies. Sam was salvation.

The thing in front of him faded. It's screams mingled with the screams in his memories. He cut harder, trying to silence it, while thriving on the sick twisted scream of pain. He needed to hear it, needed to know that it understood, that there was nothing for it but more pain. It was a demon, hell had broken it like it'd broken Dean. And it had no more business here than he did, but Sam...Sam wasn't broken. Sam's eyes sparkled in the dark, and Dean wanted to fall to his knees, wanted to beg for it to not be true. Because Sam wasn't coming. Sam's eyes would never be black, and his lips would never taste like blood, and his skin would never, ever be there for Dean to get lost in.

He wasn't sure when the feeling came back, mixed in with the hate he was suffocating, couldn't breath. If he could just make the screaming stop he might be able to catch his breath. In hell someone is always screaming.

The blade slipped out of his hand, he felt the bones in his hand grinding with the force he put behind the swing. It wasn't stopping, no matter how hard, or how many times that he swung, how much the impact jarred his wrist, made him feel sick and dizzy and off balance he couldn't make it stop swinging.

He pulled his arm back to swing again and fingers wrapped around his wrist, held it in the air like it was nothing.

“That's enough Dean,” Sam whispered. Forcing Dean to meet his eyes, he was quiet and seemed calm, but there was a tic to the way that he moved, like he'd been trying to get Dean's attention for some time.

Dean couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't see the blackness there. There was no escaping from hell, there just wasn't. He knew that, He'd always known that.

It wasn't Sam. It couldn't be Sam. But god he wanted the lie. More than anything, he just wanted to believe it for a little longer. Wanted to believe that the demon pretending to be his brother was him, and that Sam could still love him despite the black in his eyes and the poison that had twisted his soul.

He shrugged off the touch, struggling to breath normally, “He should be ready for you.” Dean said, “I'm going to go find something to drink.” He pushed past him, couldn't bear for another second to think of him as his brother. Not knowing it couldn't be true. He moved in a daze, pretty sure he knew where he was going. He found himself sitting under a tree, a half finished bottle of some cheap bourbon in one hand. He was staring at the amber liquid, watching it slosh around in the bottle.

He didn't have to look up to know Sam was coming toward him, a straight line, like he hadn't been looking for Dean, like he knew exactly where he'd settled when his feet refused to carry him any farther.

The son of a bitch probably did know exactly where he was. Sam slid down onto the grass next to him and reached for the bottle. “I'm sorry,” he said, but didn't elaborate on exactly which part of the shit show that was their lives he was apologizing for this time.

Dean laughed, not because it was particularly funny, but because it was probably the most unfunny thing that could have happened. Dean watched him drink, watched the way his throat worked, watched the way his eyes closed, watched every moment looking for something that was wrong, something that he could point at and say, “ _this is how I knew_.” but he couldn't see anything, not in the way he drank, not in the wince that crossed his face after, at least half out of habit.

Sam handed the bottle over, he didn't ask if Dean wanted to talk about it. Didn't ask if he was okay either. He just let Dean down the burn of the whiskey, it warmed the knot in the middle of his guts, but it didn't loosen it.

Time didn't matter. They had forever. Time, like the screaming, never ended in hell. Dean wondered why he couldn't hear it, but then he never really stopped hearing it, maybe what he thought was the echoes in his memories were what he was actually hearing. It made sense in a twisted kind of way. The screaming in his mind never stopped, because it never stopped, something just was holding him away from it, keeping it from flooding his senses.

_So this is hell then_ He caught himself thinking absently, and wished it bothered him more. 

He laid back against the tree and looked at the blue of a sky he wished he could really see. Gave himself over to it, to getting as much out of it as he could before they realized that he had their trick figured out. Of course they'd figured it out. He was twisted and corrupted but he was still Dean, still remembered what it was like to love his little brother, still remembered what it was like to worry about him, still human enough to feel bad when he ripped into someone he thought wasn't condemned, just a girl who hit on the wrong man. Of course they had to find a different way to break him.

He reached out and let his hand cup the side of his brother's face, worn by a monster that couldn't touch the light that Sam had been. The way to break him. He let his hand drift down, let his fingers span that column of his brother's neck. He could squeeze, just a little, just enough to make him think Dean would kill him, and then they'd know they'd failed. That Dean had figured out the game. He'd go back to the red fire and the burning blades, and the endless screams. He kept his touch light, it felt real. The warm skin beneath his hand, the pulse thumping hard and steady against his palm.

“Take off your clothes.” Dean said. It came out to flat and harsh to his own ears, but if this was the closest he was going to get to going home, then he was going to take it, all of it, and he was going to play along, and then when they thought they were going to break him, when they pulled whatever this rug they were weaving out from under his feet, it wouldn't matter because then they could find out he'd known all along, and this wouldn't break him either.

“What?” Sam asked looking at him in wide eyed surprise, the mockery of innocence on his face had Dean leaning into him, kissing the stupid look off his face while he tugged at the button of his jeans.

“Strip baby, want you to ride me.” Dean said again.

He might have expected more of a fight, but God, this demon masquerading as his brother was probably the easiest lay Dean had ever had. The clothes came off quickly and he had the skin beneath his hands. It was good, there were differences, and he had marked them off as results of what Sam was doing, he should have seen them for what they were, proof that this wasn't really Sam. He should have seen it sooner.

He reached for the zipper of his own pants, stopped only long enough to run his hand over the length of his own cock and let it swell into full hardness against his hand. Then he moved his pants down just enough to free it. The hard length bobbed from his body, stiff and proud and just waiting to be shoved into the tight body.

“Suck on that for me,” he said. The hand on the back of the monster's neck guided it to his cock. He stopped it just an inch away, met the hazel of his brother's eyes, and smirked, “you bite me and I'll rip your fucking teeth out.” he whispered.

“Not going to bite you,” Sam said, a playful smirk as he settled between Dean's legs. Dean let his eyes drift closed, didn't want to see the tip of his cock disappear between his pink lips. Didn't want to see the look in his eyes. It would be too much with the thoughts playing through his head. But he couldn't help but feeling the wet and warm, and indescribably good feeling of having his cock sucked, or the soft fall of hair against his thigh, so light it felt like the memory of a touch, rather than a real one. Dean tangled his hand in that hair, half to stop from feeling it touch him, half to force him down harder, to push until his cock pressed against the back of his throat and he felt the reflexive gag squeezing him in a weird little rhythm that felt amazing.

“That's it, you want it so bad, choke on it,” he said before he could stop the words from slipping through his lips. Dean felt the faintest touch against his mind. Something like a question. He let it happen, thought about the worst things he'd ever found himself imagining doing to his brother. The things that he had tried to bury when he'd been human, he let them pour out every filthy degrading thing that he could think of. And he felt the touch recede like he'd slapped him. In a way he figured he kind of had. It wasn't like it was anything he'd actually let Sam see, but this thing that was pretending to be his brother while it had Dean's cock down it's throat deserved it, deserved to see it, to know that if it didn't break the cover, he was going to humiliate it in every way that he could think of. If it wanted to pretend to be Sam, Dean would play along, but it would pay for the privileged.

Dean let it go on long enough that he started feeling the way it lost the enthusiasm, how badly it was trying to please him, but Dean was still and silent, his hand tangled roughly in the hair, guiding where he wanted, dragging it out, occasionally forcing him down hard and deep and holding him until he could feel the demon struggling for air as it chocked and gagged around him. But it didn't stop, didn't complain, and didn't make him let go.

Dean found himself wondering absently if he could kill it. He knew it had to be pretty damn powerful, for the amount of control that it had over him and over ruby, it had to be at least as powerful as Azazel had been, if he didn't let it drink though? Would it just be a regular demon? Could he kill it then? He shoved it down hard again and felt the way that it choked. For the first time he wanted to see it shaking, wanted to see it coming down off that high he'd fought so hard to keep supplied.

He found himself absently going over the list of demons he knew about, the types and kinds while he was letting himself think about taking it out. It was probably a succubus, or incubus, whichever the male version was. That made almost too much sense the way that it fucked the bodies when it bled them. The way that it fucked Dean, and let Dean fuck him. Maybe it wasn't just blood that it was feeding off of.

Dean let go of the handful of hair he'd been holding and pushed it off of him, till it settled back on it's heels. It's lips were swollen, pink and shining with spit. The pretty hazel eyes were watering, and it was rock hard, so maybe Dean hadn't been as rough has he had hoped. He reached for it's cock and rubbed his hand over the precum sticking to the tip. Dean stroked his hand over it a couple times, just until a soft sound escaped those fucked pink lips. Then he pulled his hand away and shoved his jeans down a little farther. He pretended he didn't notice the leaves that tried to find their way up his ass, or the dirt he was lying in, “Come on your highness,” he whispered lewdly stroking his own cock, “come park that royal ass on my cock.”

Sam moved up, straddled Deans waist and leaned forward to kiss him. Dean couldn't really find it in him to kiss back, but he let it happen, let the demon nibble on his bottom lip and run his fingers around the back of Dean's neck while he positioned himself above him.

Dean grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down, “turn around.” he said, and after a brief look that bordered somewhere near confusion Sam did what he asked. Dean put on hand on his waist, the other guided his cock against the rim. He didn't wait for Sam to move, didn't wait for a sign that he was ready, Dean just pulled him down while thrusting up past the resistance of slightly tense muscle in one quick smooth movement.

The sound wasn't quite a scream, but it was enough of one to make Dean grin. He felt the flutter of the muscle trying to force him out, working against the way he knew Sam was trying to relax into it. Dean pushed his hand against the small of his back, forcing him to lean forward, Dean rolled his hips and watched the way that he slid just a little out then back in, saw how stretched the rim looked, and ran his finger over that spot. “Come on, relax for me,” he said, “good little demon whore you are, you wanted this didn't you? So take it.” He punctuated it with a thrust that made him whimper, whether pain or pleasure or some mix of both Dean didn't care. He found the bottle of bourbon where they left it and downed another mouth full. Let it take him somewhere else, somewhere not so bad, he let himself believe for a minute, that it was Sam above him, Sam keening out his name like some desperate prayer of a drowning man. Sam who was too good to ever sink so low.

He let himself get lost in the act. Let himself get lost in how good it felt to have someone riding his cock, and the sounds of those soft little hitches of breath that eventually shifted to something that sounded a little more like pleasure than pain.

Dean felt Sam go still above him, heard the whimper of his name, and the first wave of Sam's orgasm pulled Dean over the edge with him. It washed over him leaving him exhausted. He watched the clothes cover the form of his brother, with a sort of drifting detachment, he couldn't bring himself to care. Not about any of it. Not now that it felt like he finally saw the truth of the situation.

Sam rejoined him on the ground, dean took another shot from the neck of the bottle.

“You going to pull your pants back up?” Sam asked sometime later, like Dean hadn't seen his eyes lingering on Dean's softening length rather than his face.

“You have a problem with it you can fix it,” Dean said, but he reached for the waist band of his jeans just the same. Sam took the bourbon, sipped it like he was thinking. At least they got that part right, Sam always thought too damn much.

Dean felt something like tears burning in the back of his eyes and clogging his throat. “Tell me,” Sam said softly, “I can't help you if you don't tell me.” He was begging, begging for Dean to open up, and it was a knife in that soft part of his heart that missed Sam enough to believe the lie, better to live an eternity with a lie, then live an eternity without his brother.

Dean swallowed the words, but they came out anyways, spilled from his lips like poison, and he knew the second he said them, it'd be over, with the illusion shattered they wouldn't let him keep it. “Is this a my new punishment?” He asked, the words were so softly spoken he didn't think they were heard. “Just, tell me the truth. Is this hell? I'm still there aren't I? And this is some new torture? I got to say it doesn't hurt as much as the meat hooks, and it's not quite as bad as the gang rapes, but I just can't find the catch. What's the point? Give me everything I want then take it away? Am I suppose to break? Suppose to kill you cause you look like Sammy? Or love you for the same reason? I don't know, just tell me, so I don't have to figure it out. I'm too tired to figure this out.” his voice ended weak, a sigh where he wanted to be screaming.

Sam was still, then he was moving. Hands were on Dean's skin feeling like he was everywhere at once. Stupid meaningless words were falling out of his lips and Dean couldn't make himself listen to them. Couldn't let himself believe anything that was being said, every promise he already knew was a lie. He didn't even realize that the hands on him had not been random until he was being pulled away from the ground, his jeans back up and zipped. Sam threw the bourbon bottle somewhere toward the woods, and Dean didn't flinch at the sound of the glass shattering against a tree. He was pretty sure it was empty, but he still could see it in his minds eyes, alcohol dripping down the branches of some forgotten tree.

“Don't take it out on the forest,” he muttered, but let himself be dragged back into their makeshift base.

The demon hung unconscious in the ropes Sam had tied it up with. Or it might have been dead. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.

Dean was guided and dragged back to the car and shoved into the back seat, “get some sleep,” Sam ordered, “I'll come get you when I'm done.”

Dean meant to argue. Meant to rant and yell and rave, and rebel just to show that he could, but he was tired, already giving into the compulsion and being dragged so deep into his own subconscious that dreams were over taking him before he thought to argue. He was tired all the way through, he felt like he'd been in a fight and lost. And Sam wasn't there, wasn't giving him anything to know that he was right or wrong. He just left him in the car, alone. The only thing that Sam knew Dean could never stand to be.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weird chapter.

Dean woke up to a soft touch shaking his arm. Sam was whispering his name. He felt drained, more exhausted than when his eyes had closed. He didn't ask if he was okay, just woke Dean up enough to get him to move over before sliding into the driver seat. Dean could smell the blood on him, but he didn't know if that was because he could actually smell it, or because he was imagining it, or maybe because he'd never stopped smelling it.

Dean lay against the passenger side door, the glass cool against his skin and let himself get lost in the image, in the moment, watching it pass as much as he was living it.

Sam didn't talk as he drove them to a motel at the edge of the nearest town. He didn't talk after he checked them in and guided dean from the car to the room, with one hand wrapped around his elbow like he was afraid Dean was going to bolt if he lost that point of contact.

In the room, Sam stripped his shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor. His hands wrapped around the hem of Dean's shirt and pulled it up over his head. Dean's joined Sam's on the floor.

It wasn't until Dean felt the soft brush of the back of Sam's fingers low on his belly did he realize Sam was stripping him. Silently, and without rushing, but he was tugging at Dean's jeans with a sort of directness that seemed more methodical than sexual.

“What are you – “

“Hush.” Sam interrupted him, and pushed the jean's down his hips. Dean's lips fell silent. Not compulsion but compliance.

Dean was walked to the shower, Sam adjusted the water, and pretended not to notice that Dean was staring at his ass while he did it.

The water that washed over him was warm, but it fell slowly, without the pounding pressure that he liked. Sam stepped in behind him and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him backwards against the solid wall of his chest. Dean felt the press of Sam's cock against his ass, and tried not to react. Tried not to think about it. Dean looked down to see where Sam's hands were roaming across his skin. The water running down the drain was pink tinged and he realized that it was blood that he was seeing. Sloughing off of his skin and down into the drain below. Sam's touches were solid as he held Dean close to him. Dean felt the press of his lips against the back of his neck. “Let me take care of you,” Sam whispered softly. Dean nodded not thinking clearly, trying not to think at all.

There was a soft snick of sound then the soapy smell of motel shampoo filled the small space.

Sam's hands were in his hair. The soap that ran down into the drain was also pink tinged. Dean wondered how he had to have looked, blood soaked sleeping against the window of the car, someone probably thought he was dead. The thought sent a low amused laugh bubbling up through him uncontrollably.

“What?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean turned toward him. Saw the soap bubbles dotting his skin, saw the water rolling in a steady river down his thigh, saw the hard edge to him that promised pain and pleasure in equal measure, and he saw underneath that, the kid that his brother had been, the one that wouldn't hurt an innocent, that would stand up for anyone no matter what it cost him.

It was ridiculous for him to be standing naked in the shower with a demon, washing it's hair like it was something precious. Like Dean hadn't spent decades torturing people.

“It's okay,” He whispered, and turned to wash the soap out himself.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, “you're not making any sense.”

Dean shrugged, “I'm fine, really, I can wash myself.”

Sam grabbed his wrist and tugged it down. Pressed Dean back against the shower wall, and when the hell had Sam gotten so fucking big? Dean felt suffocated, and dwarfed in his presence. Sam's hand moved down his neck, holding it like he was going to pull Dean into a kiss.

“I know,” He said softly, “but I want to, just let me touch you.” Sam said softly and then Dean was kissed. Sam explored his lips slowly before dragging Dean back under the water and letting it rinse the rest of the soap from his hair.

Dean moved out of the spray and watched the process repeat while Sam washed his hair. It had a definite effect on his cock, he leaned back against the wall and ignored the swelling between his legs, fought down the urge to stroke himself off while watching the act that shouldn't have been sexual.

He tried to find the part of him that would have been disgusted by the thought of getting hard watching his little brother shower, but it was long gone, he only felt the hard edge of want, and regret that he wasn't that person anymore. Even knowing that it was just another of hell's tricks, he found himself glad to have known it. Glad to get to see the way Sam looked with his eyes half closed in pleasure of washing the grime off his skin. He was definitely glad the show was just for him.

Sam didn't seem unaffected by being watched either. Dean could see the slight pink flush to his skin. But he was swelling as slow and hard as Dean had. His cock moved when he moved, dean licked his lips looking down at it.

He could just fall down to his knees and take that in his mouth. It was his, as long as the demon was pretending to be Sam, and as long as Dean was pretending he didn't know that it wasn't Sam, he could do anything he wanted to it. He'd let him.

Dean reached for him before he even knew that he was going to, his hand just barely wrapped around the shaft before Sam had a hard grip on his wrist moving it way from him. “No,” Sam said gently, “just wait a little while.”

Dean was still kind of shocked by the denial when Sam shook his hair and it fell down around his face in wet tangles. He moved toward Dean, and Dean couldn't help try to take a step back, like he could sink farther into the wall.

“This is real Dean.” he said softly, “you're really home, and despite what you're thinking, I'm really me. And I'm not going anywhere until you stop doubting it.”

He held his hand up, “look, same shitty water pressure of every motel we've ever been in, same limited water, same scratchy old towels, same everything, it's real, and you're here, and you're not ever going back. They can't hurt you anymore. I won't let them.”

Sam didn't give him much of a chance to answer before he was turning off the water. Dean reached for his clothes as soon as he was dried off.

Sam took them out of his hands, “I'll get you clean ones, for now you need to rest.” He pulled the cover up on the bed. Dean let himself be urged underneath the covers, still damp from the shower, and nothing to keep the sheets from sticking to his skin. Sam slid in next to him, and Dean was pulled close against him, Sam's leg wrapped around his thighs and his arm around his waist pulling him closer until he felt completely wrapped in the wet warmth of his touch.

“I promise you're safe.” Sam whispered, “I promise I'm not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Dean thought about pushing him off him, thought about arguing that he didn't need cuddled or coddled or whatever the fuck Sam thought he was doing. It felt good though, felt good to let himself enjoy it. He didn't say anything just fought to keep himself still to keep from breaking the moment.

He curled toward his brother, let himself study the angles of his face again. “did you find out anything?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, I know where she is.” He smiled, “I'm going to make the bitch pay.” Sam's hand roamed down his side stroking softly. “It's going to be okay, I promise.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

Late afternoon sunlight was breaking through the thin curtains, it fell across the floor in broken slats. A few of them crossed the silent room and stabbed daggers of light into Dean's eyes. He didn't even have them open before he knew that something was wrong.

The sheets were tangled around him, and he could feel that there was nothing separating his skin from the cotton material. He was better rested than he had been in months, but it was lost in the moment of panic. He knew that Sam had left without him. There was an undignified moment when he ended up on the floor trying to get out of the tangle of sheets. Then he stood up, pissed off and breathing hard, he kicked the sheet that had followed him onto the floor under the bed. Clean clothes were folded on the other bed. It did nothing to chill his anger.

Sam's phone rang through to voice mail. He hung up and called back. It was the third time, that he threw it against the wall.

He was going to find Sam when he ran into a wall at the door. He was going to kill him. He was going to beat the hell out of Sam for locking him in the room while he went to do something that could probably get him killed.

It was stupid of Sam to think that something as simple as paint on the ceiling would slow Dean down. Dean grabbed the nearest chair and slammed it against the floor. The wood splintered and he pulled a broken chair leg away. It was just sharp enough for him to scratch the still drying paint.

It took minutes he didn't have though, and he was already hours behind Sam. In the parking lot he found another problem. One that had him seeing red. The car was gone.

Of course he had known that, at least if he'd stopped to think about it he would have known that Sam had taken it with him. At the far end of the parking lot was an old ford truck. The tires looked mostly bald, but the keys were still hanging in the ignition.

He was glad at least that he didn't have to waste any more of his time trying to hot wire the piece of crap truck.

It ran smoother than he expected. Not that he'd admit that the sound of the engine actually pissed him off worse. Sam took the car and left his ass naked in a motel room. Left without telling him where they were going. Dean knew though, they were going to find Lilith. Sam might have a head start, but as long as Dean figured out where she was before Sam got there he could probably catch up.

There wasn't much hope that he'd left the damn demon alive, but a lack of other ideas had him making his way back to the place they'd left it.

The place was clean. It was always clean. He threw a rock through one of the windows just because he could. Because he was pissed off and it was there. The sound of glass shattering did nothing to improve his mood.

There was a heartbeat between when he was pissed off and the sound of footsteps through the back door. A gun was leveled at his head, and he felt the snarl leave his mouth. He was reaching to rip the gun out of the guys hand when something struck him low in the back, the solid thunk of iron against the muscles there had him falling before he knew there was anyone behind him. The next moment he was hit was something that felt like bottled lightening. The floor rushed up to meet him in a gray-black blur and he heard words being spoken rapidly over the sound of his ear drums ringing. Something washed over him, wet and sweet smelling, poured from a bottle. It didn't burn, which when the water hit him he expected it to be holy water, but there was something in it. The words kept rising and falling, but he couldn't make out exactly what was being said.

The ringing receded, the room had shifted, Dean found himself chained to a metal chair. The links bit into his skin. The sweet smelling stuff had turned into a bitter, sticky paste across his skin. A camping lantern was sat in the middle of the floor, it cast weak light through the room, that didn't quite make it into the shadows, but it was more than enough for Dean to see the men that surrounded him. Three of them, the magic screamed witch but the posture was wrong. He could see the way they held themselves tense. The way weapons they held were a mix of the mundane, guns and tire irons, and magic, there was a book one of them was being careful to keep out of his line of sight. He didn't have to see the lack of a title on it to know the type.

“Fucking witches.” he growled, spitting what felt like a thick wade of bloody spit at the ground in front of them.

“Not quite.” one of them said, he looked entirely too pleased with himself for Dean's taste. “We're going to ask some questions, and you're going to answer them.”

“Or what?” Dean asked? “you'll hit me with more soap? Or whatever the hell that was?”

There was a half a moments look between them and one of them opened the book, this time Dean knew for a damn fact it was Latin.

“Are you fucking kidding?” He asked. His head thumped back against the back of the chair at the sheer injustice of the situation. “you're hunters?”

The one that had been reading stopped, Dean saw the look that crossed his face, he was afraid. It was something, maybe it wouldn't be the advantage he would need, but knowing that he had the weakest of the pack pegged was enough to make him smile.

“Whatever it is you think I am, I'm not. You've got this all wrong.” He didn't know how much people knew, how many people had found out about his deal, ro how many had found out that it went down, if he was very careful he might be able to talk his way out with minimal damage, at least until he got the damn chains off his arms, then there would be as much damages as he felt like handing out. “Look, you're hunters, call Bobby, he'll tell you who I am.”

“Right, and he'll tell me what? That you're not a demon?”

The lie on the tip of his tongue didn't want to come out.

“He'll tell you that I'm Dean Winchester, and whatever Demon you're looking for I can help you find.”

“I know.” The man that seemed to be in charge said, “see the demon I'm looking for I've already got, right here with me, now the other one is going to be here any minute.”

Dean twisted his wrist trying to find a way to loosen up the chain around his arms. “who are you looking for?” he asked directly trying to get them talking so he could figure out what he needed to say to get them to let him go.

“Sam.” he said with a smile, “what you think no one would notice your little murder spree? I mean you'd think since you use to be a hunter you'd at least have the foresight to cover your damn tracks. signs of demons everywhere, people see that black car you're so in love with, and then invariably a body turns up, completely clean, except the exact same cuts and marks, and bruises.” he stopped, “i'm sure there's more somewhere, but the ones we've found are enough, you're not hunting the thing killing people, you are the thing that's doing it, you or your brother, I don't know which, I don't care which. I've got you, baby brother can't be too far behind.”

“Sam's not here.” Dean said with absolute certainty, “you can do whatever you want, you will never get Sam.”

“You're right,” he said softly, “i can do whatever I want, but I don't need you here to lure him back, I just need your body.” It was said so sincerely that Dean was almost positive the only thing that made it sound so sexual was his own twisted perverted mind.

It was apparently a cue, the Latin chanting started back up, Dean wasn't sure how that would work, he wasn't possessing anyone, he was just himself, but for a half a second he was afraid that it would. That he'd be torn out of his own body and thrown back into the fire that Sam had pulled him out of. He was having trouble breathing. It made his heart beat harder trying to do something, made him feel like screaming, but all fo the sounds were choked out, by his own fear or by the exorcism.

Except the words were washing over him, and he felt trapped, but not pulled, not the way he would have expected. It took a few minute, a few minutes where they changed first the one with the book, then the second joined when it didn't look like it was working, and the leader joined last, looking spooked, Dean listened to the words, and it didn't do anything to him, so he smiled, picked up on the next line and added his voice to theirs.

“I already told you, that's not going to work on me.”

“So you're not a demon?” the leader asked pacing around him.

“Don't you think that would have worked if I was?”

“Maybe,” he conceded, “or maybe not, I mean you're the first Demon I've ever seen possessing it's own body, it might be like trying to exorcise a human. It's definitely something that we'll look up later,” he said, it was almost like he was telling his friends to take notes, because there was a nod of agreement

Dean intended on telling him good luck with finding that, because as far as he knew, Dean's situation was one of a kind, but he didn't get a chance to. Something hit his skin and felt like it was pealing off his arm, it burned like boiling water, and he could hear the hiss of steam escaping his skin.

The pain faded away, and he snarled, “I'm going to kill you.”

The response was more of the water and a smile, “you're not going to get the chance.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

Dean kept talking, doing his best to keep the smirk on his lips, despite the agony that tore through him. He had thought they would have given up when they realized the exorcism wouldn't work. His clothes were soaked through and he was hurting in more places than he could count.

The hunter's were whispering in the corner, their voices low and angry.

He smiled, “If you had any clue what you're dealing with you'd just go home, and focus on the easy stuff. We're working on something, a case. We're after the biggest bitch in hell, and I should be out there, not chained up in hell why you try to get answers to questions you don't even know.”

“Let me tell you what I do know,” one of them said pulling out his phone while he talked, “I know that your baby brother died, Bobby Singer shared that little trivia with me.” He was scrolling through the phone but glanced up to see the way Dean took it. Dean tried to keep his face impassive, but he felt his stomach drop at the memory of Sam, collapsing in the middle of the road.

“Sam's fine.” Dean said out loud, but he couldn't stop the way that his throat was trying to work against him.

“Yeah, had a few other people we talked to, turns out you made a deal to bring him back.” He smiled, “I get the news, hunters might not be a social bunch, but the right questions to the right people, it's amazing what you'll find out.”

Dean shrugged, “I do what I have to do.”

“Oh I know, I get that Dean, I really do, but I am curious, were you fucking him before he died? Or did that just start up after.” He held up the phone, on it was a picture of John Winchester sitting in a corner booth of a place with wooden walls looking down at a beer bottle in one hand, across from him was Sam and Dean as kids, Dean might have been 10. Sam was tiny next to him, curled up against Dean's side with his eyes closed, so small and bony that Dean couldn't help the smile that cracked his lips. “See I know you Dean. I knew your Dad, I know Bobby, So I can't help but wonder, you're a sick son of a bitch, but were you always sick, or is this just since Sam came back from the dead, and you came back from hell.”

He stood up and walked away and Dean wanted to ask if there were more pictures, if he could have that one. He held it back, he wasn't asking. He was going to take, just as soon as he got the chance.

“I'm not Fucking Sam.” He bit out the words, tried for the anger and disgust that he should have felt but just wasn't there. There was a time he could remember when even the idea would have been enough to freak him the hell out. He could barely remember what that would have felt like.

The guy smiled and there was another picture. Dean against a wall his pants down around his thighs and his eyes closed with pleasure, he could see the smirk on his brother's face and the way his hand curved around the globe of Dean's ass. “You might not be fucking Sam, but I know he's damn sure fucking you.”

Dean was going to kill whoever took that picture. They were dead and they didn't even realize it yet.

“Come on Dean, you can talk to me, how long?”

“You want details?” Dean asked, “Didn't really think you were into that.” Dean's mind replayed the first time, he wasn't sharing it, not the way that Sam had whispered his name like a prayer, or the way that they'd lost track of time. He didn't tell him that afterwards Sam had curled around him and held on like he was afraid that Dean was going to disappear any second. That Dean was still warm from the time in hell and that Sam was still shaking from the power he'd used to save him.

“First time, I was 14. He screamed when I held him down and fucked his virgin ass.” he said softly. “That's what you want to hear about right? Me teaching my little brother how to take a cock? Want to hear about me raping him? Molesting him in his sleep? I mean if that's what you want to hear, I can give you all the gory details.”

Dean felt the blow split his lip, but it didn't hurt. The phone rang before he could say anything else and he hit the button, “yeah.”

Dean didn't catch what was said, but he heard, “yeah I've got him.” then there was a pause while he listened smiling at Dean with gleeful malice. “good news. An old friend is coming to visit.” He smiled, pulled a machete off the table and pressed the blade against Dean's neck before leaning low to whisper, “since I can't exorcise you, I'm going to assume you're bound to this body, what happens if I cut off your head?” He dragged the blade back just enough to break the skin as he walked away. Then threw it back on the table. They both went out the door, agreeing on it with a gesture.

Dean watched them go, as soon as they were out of sight he started trying to get free again. He gave up at the point where he had dislocated his thumb and still wasn't able to get loose. No one was coming for him, Sam didn't even know anyone was after them, and was too busy chasing down lilith to even realize that Dean was gone.

He'd figure it out he just needed a few minutes to think. The door opened again and Dean let out a relieved breath, “Bobby?” he sagged relieved against the bonds holding him, “you have to get me out of here.”

“That's not going to happen.” the hunter whose name he didn't know said from behind him.

“You find Sam yet?” Bobby asked, looking over his shoulder at the other hunter.

“He was already gone.” The hunter said, and dean felt his stomach drop.

“Bobby, you can't be serious? You're working with them?” The betrayal sent a flare of rage through him.

“They're hunter's Dean. Just like you were.”

“I still am.” Dean said, “Sam's out there right now going after Lilith, if I'm not there he could...”

“I know Son,” Bobby said softly, “it's killing me that it had to be this way, but you aren't yourself anymore. And I can't let you hurt anyone else.”

“You helped them,” Dean reminded him, “we found ruby practically moved into your basement, and now you're sending hunter's after me? We're family.”

Bobby came closer, “why do you think I'm trying to help you, you came back wrong Dean, and Sam hasn't been the same since you died. I thought the two of you together might be able to fix each other, bring back the humanity in both of you, but you're just getting worse, and Sam...” he looked like it hurt him to say it, “Sam's not ever going to come back from this, you know that right? What he's done, it'd kill him if he was in his right mind, just like it'd kill you if you were still human.”

“Please,” Dean said quietly. Already giving up on the hope of Bobby helping him. That anyone was going to help him.

“Where is Sam.” Bobby asked, “we'll stop him.”

“You can't.” Dean said, “he's stronger than they are, they try to stop him and he'll kill them.” The sound of a gun cocking had Dean switching his focus to the hunter behind Bobby, “Sam will kill you.” He repeated, completely sure he was telling the truth, “and that won't stop him.” He didn't know for sure how much damage getting shot would do to Sam, but he really hoped that his brother was past the point where a bullet would do anything other than piss him off.

“Maybe not, but I've always wanted to know what would happen if you put a bullet in a demon's spine.” Dean didn't have time to process the sound of the gun going off before he felt the bullet ripping through him.

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

Dean was dying. His fingertips felt like they were dipped in ice and he couldn't remember how to breath. Each movement hurt like his skin was on fire. The worst part of waking up dying was that he couldn't remember what happened. It was a blur lost in pain and the panic welling up inside him wasn't making it any easier to concentrate. He slowly became aware there was screaming. He recognized one of the voices.

“Bobby,” his voice came out slow and slurred to his own ears. He didn't know if he'd even been heard. He needed Sam. He needed to know that Sam was okay, that whatever happened to him hadn't happened to his brother. He felt himself screaming his brother's name, but the words never reached his ears, he wondered if he'd gone deaf. If that was part of dying. It was strange how it felt like he was both dying and watching himself die from the outside.

He was above himself looking down, but at the same time it seemed like he could see more than just his eyes could have. He could see the entire room beneath him. And the doorway that should have been behind him. There was no limit to his perception. A shot gun blast ricocheted off the ceiling beam next to his head. He flinched away from it, moving farther away from his prone body. He could see the blood spread around the floor beneath where the chair had fallen over. He saw bobby moving toward his body the hands pressed into the bleeding wound, but the words he was saying was lost in a roar that sounded just a little too close to a raging inferno. He screamed. Or at least that's what he tried to do all the rage and grief and fear of what exactly was happening to him, caught up at once. The two hunter's whose names he never thought to catch flinched, and Dean felt the pull against him very being, dragging him from the air and toward the floor. He fought against it, knowing now, with his body dying they were trying to send him back. Back down to the pit that his brother had fought so hard to get him out of. And Sam wouldn't even know where he'd gone. He wouldn't be able to do anything. At least not until he got back from killing Lilith. If he got back from it. And then they'd be waiting for him. To try to ambush Sam the way they ambushed Dean. T

The thought alone filled him with a rage that he'd never truly felt before. Fear, anger, pain, jealousy, all of it wrapped up in the very purpose he had, to protect Sam no matter what. He twisted driving everything he was toward the man whose mouth was spewing the hate that would separate him from Sam again.

He wanted to choke him out of existence and tear into him until the only sounds he could make would be garbled screams.

It wasn't that he knew what he was doing, his purpose had been to shut the man up, but in an instant he was pouring himself into the other man's body, he felt the presence even as he pushed it into silence submission. The mans eyes became his own, the voice that Dean had wanted to silence became the voice that he used to laugh when he realized that without meaning to he'd taken control and possessed someone. Someone too stupid to have protective ink. Someone stupid enough to try to kill and exorcise a Winchester. He shrugged the borrowed shoulders and felt how weird it was to really get under someone elses skin.

He didn't know how he would shed the borrowed body when the time came, but his first concern was the hunter who was still holding the sawed off shot gun, looking at his friend, and therefore Dean with a look of absolute horror. If bobby had realized what was going on he was too busy applying pressure to a wound that didn't matter any more to intervene.

Dean moved quickly, not taking time to think before he lost the control he'd taken.

The gun went off, two seconds too late, Dean got his his hand around the other man's throat and wrestled the gun from him. Realized that the hand that was holding to book was twisted, he wondered absently how old the hunter who'd been trying to take him out actually was if it was age or the life that made his limbs clumsy. The next time the gun went off it was in Dean's hand, the line on the floor splintered wood chips flying up and it wasn't perfect but it was enough. With a careful twist he pushed it into the guys stomach, and said, “next time you decide to kill someone, make sure they can die.” He pulled the trigger and grinned as it clicked the barrel emptied into the floor. He threw it to the side, drew back and swung a hit hard enough to send the hunter sprawling against the wall.

“Bobby move,” Dean ordered.

The old hunter, who at one point had been family looked up and Dean was surprised to see tears in his eyes, “Dean, we were trying to help you.”

“I can see that.” Dean said gesturing at the body in the middle of the demon trap, “you helped me a lot.” He leaned down and lifted the limp form, “after all, now there's nothing anchoring me.” he smiled, “I guess I should thank you for that.” He carried what had for almost his entire existence been his body, at the door he turned back, “If I ever see you again, I'll kill you, family or not.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

Dean took a step out of the building and tried to figure out where he needed to go next. He pushed outward from the hunter trying to find his way back into his own body only to find that something kept him out.

He searched through the hunters mind trying to find what they did to him. He felt the smugness from the hunter when he found it. The bullets were carved with the same symbol that he had on his chest.

He needed to find Sam, but he didn't have a clue where to look. He needed a hospital. He took a step forward and ended up standing momentarily dazed in an empty room with white walls. He just needed to get the bullet fragments out.

He had remove bullets before but there was something different about it when it was his own body. He was working with hands that were clumsy and inefficient. He considered finding a doctor to take instead someone with the skills and knowledge that he needed, but he couldn't risk anyone else seeing him, couldn't risk being recognized as a dead body walking. He could always just take out anyone that did see him, but he didn't want to.

The first metal sliver's he found were embedded deep in the soft tissue of his stomach. He was simultaneously fascinated seeing parts of himself that weren't meant to see daylight, and a little weirded out by how easy it was. He knew the inside of a human body the way he knew the inside of an engine. Knew how all the pieces fit together.

His body was dead. He could feel it cooling beneath his hands. He felt along organs that were firm and blood filled, searched for the places where it had ragged holes ripped by shrapnel. He found a couple more small pieces and the metal was laid an the table next to his body. If he got it all out he was going to keep it as a damn souvenir.

He was working as quickly as he could, but his mind kept drifting back to how much time he was wasting, how he should just leave the damn body, it wasn't like he needed it. Sam was out there somewhere risking his life and Dean needed to get to him, needed to be there beside him.

It took too long, and he found himself talking, just hoping that Sam would be listening somewhere beyond Dean's abilty to hear him, “if you do anything stupid I swear to god I'll kill you.” he placed a couple stitches in the deep tissue and snipped the end of the thread then moved to the next spot. He realized at some point that he probably should have put on gloves when his fingers became tacky with the blood on them, and he could see it black and clotting under his borrowed nails. It wasn't just the blood that got on him that was thickening and turning black, there was places on the body where it was taking on a distinctively darker tone and he wondered how much time he had before it started rotting, if he could even repossess it if he waited too long. He didn't think it had to be a living body for a demon to take hold, but the idea of him being actually dead, of his body decaying around him was a kind of horror he didn't want to look too closely at.

He needed a miracle, but he wasn't stupid enough to think something like him could ever get one. He needed Sam. He didn't doubt his brother could fix him, but he still didn't know where his brother even was.

The light above him sparked and shattered inward. Dean flinched out from under it when glass from the bulb showered down on him. He looked up at in surprise, he hadn't meant for that to happen. He was still looking at it when something grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. There was sizzling electricity in the air and he felt gripped by a sudden thought that whatever this was, it wasn't human.

The eyes that stared into him were piercing blue, and dean got the impression it wasn't looking at the body he'd stolen but Dean himself inside it. “Dean,” the man said his voice coming out deeper than what he would have expected from the face, the room almost vibrated with the power behind it. It confirmed what he expected. The man searched Dean's face like he was looking for something, then said, “we've been looking for you.”

The man moved away from Dean and examined his body instead, “this is the vessel?” He asked, “what happened to it?”

“blessed buck shot.” Dean said, exasperated, tired already of the way that he moved around the room like he owned the place, but not wanting to lie.

There was a soft hum of acknowledgment and Dean saw light erupt from his hand. It fell down around the body in waves that were as solid as they were bright. He had to look away after a few moments and the back of his eyes still burned with the after images.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked forcing himself to look at the creature not at the light. For a moment he could have sword the shadows on the wall were radiating outward from it. Like it was pulling all of the darkness in the room toward itself, dragging them into shapes that almost made sense but not quite.

“Healing the vessel.” he said, “demon's are destructive, chaotic, they can keep a body moving indefinitely, but they can't heal one, for what's to come, we need you whole, and undamaged.”

“We?” Dean asked focused on the one part of that damn sentence that he understood.

“My brethren.” the creature said, “we were charged with your rescue, many were lost in the battle, only to find that you were already gone.”

“I'm sorry,” Dean said insincerely.

“They did their duty, their sacrifice was unfortunate but necessary.”

“I'm sure I would have loved to meet your family.” Dean said and rather than meeting the ice in the blue depths, instead he looked down at his body and saw the seam he'd cut down his stomach was resealing itself smoothly, leaving unbroken skin in place of the cut.

“You will.” the other said and turned toward Dean. The look on his face forced him to take a step back, “I'm sorry we didn't get to you in time.”

Dean didn't say anything. “I have to get to my brother.”

“Sam is exactly where Sam's suppose to be.” he said, “you don't need to worry about him any more.”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Dean demanded, “Sam went after Lilith by himself, she could kill him.”

'Perhaps.” the creature agreed, “she won't, she wants Sam to find her, there's nothing that you can do to stop what's about to happen.”

Before Dean could ask any other questions the creature turned, “I'm sorry, it's time.” Dean stepped back at the touch against his face, got no farther before darkness took over and he lost consciousness.

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

“What do you want?” Dean asked skeptically.

“Let us save the world, stop the apocalypse, give you anything you want.” He said, “it's really just a minor thing of agreeing to let Micheal temporarily use the body you're not actually in for a couple minutes to stop Lucifer from destroying the world. You stay safe and sound here, while he goes and puts an end to all of the bad stuff that will happen if Lucifer is left to roam freely. That's it.”

“You want to use my body to fight Lucifer? While I chill here, in your weird ass room.”

“In a nutshell, exactly.”

“Why?” He asked, “what could you possibly get out of that.”

“It's compatible, which is the major one, it's currently unoccupied, definitely a plus, strong, fast, also you yourself are a demon so there's the element of surprise. You can get close enough he won't even see it coming, and by you, of course I mean Micheal. It's a perfect set up, we know when to take advantage of a good surprise.”

There was a look, “come on Dean, even you don't want the world to end. And we can fix you, make you what you were before.”

“I don't want to be fixed.” Dean growled.

“Then what do you want?” He asked and smiled, “Sam? What if I can promise that when this is over you and Sam will never have to be apart again. I'll make sure of it.”

Zachariah waited, and let Dean think about it, let all the reasons he might object come up, but Dean found he didn't really care what they did, it was just a body, it wasn't even like he was in it, but it was his, and he was possessive of it even if he wasn't currently possessing it.

“Come on Dean, you have a chance to save the world, to prove that you are still the man you use to be, I mean you sold your soul to save someone's life. Doesn't that make you a true hero, you're going to let hell take that away from you?”

“Where's Sam?” Dean asked, “if you're promising me Sam, that means you have him, so where is he.”

“We don't have Sam, I already told you, Sam is exactly where he's suppose to be. Now we need your cooperation. Just say yes Dean. This whole thing will be over with before you know it.”

“Fine,” Dean said. “but I want it back.”

“of course,” he said smiled broadly, then disappeared.

Dean realized he was left alone with the man that had brought him in the first place.

“What do you want?”

“Want?” He asked curiously, “I'm watching over you.”

“Why? Think I'm going to do something stupid?” Dean asked, “I promise I'm just going to wait here until your buddies find it in their hearts to bring me my body back, or...” he focused on where he wanted to go and took the step toward it trying to get out of the room. It didn't work.

He felt the flare of disappointment.

“Like the painting on the ceiling?” Castiel said, “it was designed for one purpose, to keep you here. You're trapped Dean.”

He wasn't sure where in the painting the trap was hidden if it. There was too much going on, too many repeating circles and too many lines that almost gave the hint of some deeper meaning.

It was a good trick, if it didn't piss him off so much to find himself trapped by it Dean could almost appreciate the beauty in it. The painting of course was sections of a battle scene. It wasn't hard to pick out angel's standing in rank behind another, Dean thought it weird how much it looked like him.

He followed the lines, saw them intersect and converge at a glance it looked like almost any of the religious pictures that he'd seen over the years, but when he stopped focusing and just followed the lines of color the picture broke down. Soft light at the top broken by a flurry of arrows, but a few of them were intersecting breaking it into a point against the off white sky. Below it bodies ravaged by an unknown battle lay in piles, that formed a line at the bottom an angel's wings arched back and up making another point. And all those lines were black. But they were all broken. If the entire painting was a trap then it was missing some lines so it would have been worthless.

It wasn't even that well done, but from a distance it looked better, gave the impression of the image enough for him to comprehend and only see the trap when that's what he was looking for. In the middle of the top section there was a design that looked like the sun, he was willing to bet if he got closer it would have completely different lines drawn into the sphere. He didn't ask, the effect was still the same, for lack of a plan he studied the painting trying to find the place that would be easiest for him to damage to break out of the trap.

It was the picture at the bottom center that got his attention. The same angel whose wings took up the bottom section of the painting. In's sword was plunged into the heart of someone that Dean took to represent Lucifer, most religious paintings seemed to have their own twist on that. But there was a certain familiarity to the softness of the face the shadows painted to obscure it, the body almost lost in the crimson splash of blood.

“Sammy,” dean whispered, “what the hell is that?” Dean asked pointing at the image.

“a painting.” Castiel said sounding bored.

“of what?”

“The battle to come.” he said flatly.

“Get me out of here, now.” Dean demanded, “I don't care what you have to do, take me to Sam.”

“I have my orders.” he said,

“look you emotionless son of a bitch, I don't care about your fucking order's. That's my brother.”

“Your brother?” He asked softly a look that was part confusion and part curiosity crossed his face, “everything he is to you and brother is the word you use first. Why?”

“I don't have time for your cryptic riddles, that son of a bitch is going to try to kill Sam. I have to stop him.”

“No Dean.” He said, his voice sounded sad, he looked away, then looked back something blazed behind the blue of his eyes, white light that made Dean have to look away when his own started watering and hurting, “He's not going to try to kill Sam. Micheal is _going_ to kill Sam, because that isn't Sam. That's Lucifer. The single most important mission in our existence is to stop Lucifer from taking control of hell. If the cost of that is your brother, then you are going to let him go.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

Dean felt the fury rising from panic and despair to a red rage. He launched himself at the angel, not caring that it was stronger than him, not caring about anything but making it pay for keeping him locked in the room while something was after Sam.

He found himself spun and the breath knocked out of him as his back hit the wall. His teeth clicked together painfully and his eyes sparked with color splotches. A silver spike pressed against his throat. He couldn't see the blade but he had the distinct impression that it wouldn't be very hard for Castiel to push it through his neck.

“Do it,if you've got the balls to,” Dean growled, he watched the impassiveness on the angel's face, and saw how little he cared about anything Dean was saying to him. Cas was just the baby sitter, forced to miss out on the big fight to keep an eye on Dean. Like Dean being there might change something. He smiled tried to call the bluff, “If you were going to kill me you would have done it already. If you're not going to kill me, help me.”

“I can't.” He said, “this is what is meant to happen.”

There was a hesitation, the blade backed off a little, no longer pressed hard against Dean's neck, just resting against his skin as an unspoken threat. “You won't be able to stop it.” He said, “the only thing you'll see is Micheal killing your brother.”

“I need to be there.” Dean demanded.

He searched Dean's face for a long time, like he was looking through him and into the blackened remains of his soul.

“Please,” dean whispered the word like a prayer. It hung between them for a few seconds filled with all the lost hopelessness Dean felt.

“Okay,” The angel said, his face softening a little, his eyes slipped down from Dean's to the place the blade was still pressed against his neck.

Dean wasn't sure he'd heard right. “Okay,” he echoed, “just like that?”

He nodded slightly, “If it's any consolation, I am sorry I couldn't save you, you were a good man once.”

Dean took the words at face value, and tried a different tactic, “Cas please, help me.”

“No,” Cas said, “but I will take you to your brother.” The blade was lowered and Dean barely had time to blink before the room vanished and he was standing in a stone building, along one wall he could see stained glass windows that depicted religious scenes. The kind of things that belonged in old churches.

The stone itself seemed alive and watching him, but it was strangely quiet. Somehow he expected the apocalyptic battle at the end of the world to be a little louder. The stone echoed his footsteps. He expected to see Cas but apparently the angel had dropped him and disappeared.

Dean fought the urge to scream his brother's name, he moved forward hoping to feel that pull he'd felt toward Sam. There was nothing. From somewhere ahead there was a clicking sound. Something that Dean associated with claws on stone, and the light steps of being stalked. He moved slowly, the old body he was occupying would be abandoned if he thought it would give him an advantage, but not yet. Not while he was still moving forward. His hand dragged along the wall where he was pressed against it. If there was a fight going on, it was a silent one. He felt unease creeping up from the pit of his stomach and pushed it out of mind.

A hallway opened up to his left and he peaked down it seeing nothing but an old wooden bench and a door with the same arching design as the windows. Next to it was a cork bulletin board, that was dark with dust and time. Yellowed paper curled from rusted tacks. He hesitated by the door long enough to know there was nothing but silence on the other side. He pushed it inward cautiously.

Before the door was all the way opened he could see the sliver of white, and a hand splayed upward toward the ceiling. He pushed it the rest of the way and saw the smears of blood on the virginal white dress she wore. He couldn't tell where it came from, he just hoped that the blood was hers. The floor was covered in it. When he stepped through the door way he could see patterns in it, but he knelt next to the body and pressed his fingers against her neck.

There was something off about the way the body lay across the stone alter. Something in the way her legs were slightly spread, dean could see all of her, and it didn't make it hard to imagine her spread out on the alter beneath someone, he pulled the dress down, without thinking about it. Sam had promised she was going to pay. Dean's eyes were drawn to the small line cut into her neck. The smear there that almost looked like a lipstick print. He stared at her for what felt like a long time, feeling numb. She was the reason that he'd gone to hell. She was the reason for all of his nightmares, and the reason that he was walking around in a body that wasn't his. He turned away from her, half expected her to grab him, but there was no life left in her claw like nails. The white glaze to her eyes was the death glaze of the woman she'd possessed, not the demon she was.

He went back the way that he had came closing the door behind him. He didn't bother sneaking down the hallway, the church was as silent as a tomb. Whatever had happened was over, he just had to find his brother. To know that Sam was okay. He tried not to think of what it would mean if he couldn't find him. He was quiet, but his own footsteps chased him down the hall, loud and echoing to his ears.

The next doorway he opened went out into a yard. He closed it, seeing nothing but a stone bench surrounded by rose bushes

the door opposite he pushed open reluctantly, it groaned on ancient hinges. The door opened on a nightmare. Dean's brain couldn't process what he was seeing for a few moments, he stood his feet rooted to the stone, and he couldn't take another step forward. The ground pitched beneath him and the arthritic knees screamed at the impact with the stone. An echo reached him, some keening scream of a dying animal played over and over fading in each iteration. The sound came from his own throat, too closed to even scream. But the sound came anyway, choked and strangled and completely against his will.

In his peripheral vision he could see the black leather jacket and the tangled mess of long black hair he didn't have it in him to rejoice that ruby was dead though because he saw where her hand was grasped in Sam's and a silver sword emblazoned with symbols Dean didn't recognize stood still. Pierced through his heart like Excalibur in stone. Dean crawled across the floor unable to make his legs work to carry him.

“Sammy,” he whispered afraid to reach for the blade, hoping that there was some way that he could fix the damage. He pressed his hand against his brother's neck and felt nothing but the stillness of his skin. He reached for the hilt of the sword to pull it free, the feeling in his hand was lost in a blaze of white fire and he had to let it go. He looked down at the ragged burn across his palm. Symbols from the sword were etched into his skin. He closed his eyes and squeezed his hand into a fist trying to force himself to accept the pain. He was more prepared when he reached for it the second time, moving as fast as he could. The symbols had raced up his arm by the time he pulled the sword from his brother and flung it across the room.

He collapsed around his brother dragging him into his arms. Dean had been through hell, had known anguish, and torture and pain, and nothing compared to the pain of holding his brother's body in his arms.

He heard the slide of metal against stone and his eyes only darted up long enough to meet the green of his own. The face staring into him as familiar as his own name. There was a smile curling his lips into something cruel and unrecognizable to him, and he wondered if that's what people saw when they looked at him. Light radiated from his body, stretched up into wings of shifting color and fire, that he knew he couldn't have seen if he'd been human still.

“Dean,” the voice said softly. “I was disappointed you couldn't be here for this, we saved the world. You should be proud.”

“Go to hell,” Dean choked out.

“It had to be done.” The angel said softly, “they were going to destroy everything. We had to stop them.”

“He was my brother.” Dean screamed, “I will kill you, you son of a bitch!” he couldn't move though, again he couldn't force himself to let go.

“You're not the only one that lost a brother today.” the angel said, “but it was necessary, we do what we have to. It's the job.”

Dean finally found it in him to move, rage pushing him forward, he almost had his hands around it's neck when he was stopped like running into a wall. Pain shot up through him. He felt fire radiating outward from his stomach. The scream that had torn through his throat died on his lips. He found himself choking on something and tasted copper on his tongue.

“Dean,” the voice that came out was softer than he expected, coming out in tones of surprise and worry. He looked down and saw the blade slipping free of his stomach, fire jumped across it cleansing his blood from the silver. It burned through him, white hot and eating him from the inside out.

He collapsed onto the ground and tried to back away from the blade and it's holy fire, but it was already inside him, already burning through him. He could feel the symbols etching across his skin and wondered if their marks would remain when he died. He backed up until he felt the solid contact of another body and let himself stop there, pressed against his brother's side.

“It's a shame, you had so much good left in you.” the angel said. Then turned back toward the door. Dean didn't watch him go, he reached up with the last of his strength and closed his brother's eyes. He didn't have the energy left to pull his hand away so it stayed there pressed against Sam's cheek. Dean felt himself slipping. Felt pulled from the body he'd stolen. Not pulled, burned. He was still burning he realized, he'd just lost the ability to feel it. “See you soon little brother,” he whispered. Then slipped away in a blaze of red flames.

 


End file.
